Eyes of a Young Boy
by neonnchrome1123
Summary: Set during the high school years, Roger and Mark meet through Roger's girlfriend when something else develops. Eventual MR, Rated M for language.
1. New Strings

Disclaimer: All Jonathan Larson except for some stuff…

Notes: Mark doesn't come in for a couple chapters, but it will get there. Don't worry, as you're reading it may seem like this isn't Mark/Roger, but it is. This story may not be updated as often, seeing as I have two more stories in the works. So, please be patient and live with my slowness. Thanks much! XD

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Roger's POV

I strum at my guitar, thinking intensely about how I need new strings. I've always needed new strings. Maybe my fingers are the problem, not the strings. My fingers are the ones making the music, hitting every note in the wrong or right way.

I sigh and set the guitar down, frustrated but sure I will continue later. Playing in the morning never works for me. My fatigue gets the best of me. I choose to blame school for my recent block in creativity. It could also be my lack of a girlfriend. Without girls, I have no material. What's going wrong in my life that I could write about? Not being able to write? I doubt that makes for a good song.

I lay back on my bed before sneaking a look at the clock on my desk. Ten more minutes until I have to get up for breakfast. My mom always has to be on schedule for everything. How we are different, yet oddly the same. I'm more like her than my father. My father who is never here. My father who…doesn't seem like my father.

There are some girls at school who look my way. I think it's only because of my guitar and my band that I get the slightest amount of attention. Not that it matters much, all that matters is that people are looking. I don't care why they do it. I'm still stereotyped as the distant rocker type though. No one wants to come close to me, in fear of being transformed into music. But only the important people in my life get turned into a song. Others don't deserve it.

My alarm clocks rings for the last time, and I finally drag my lazy ass out of bed. I'm not looking forward to school today. But when am I ever looking forward to school?

My tired body slumps down the stairs and into the kitchen where I see the form of my mother's cheerful self. She is making bacon, just like every other morning, and I lean over to peck her on the cheek.

"Mornin' mom." I whisper, my voice cracking.

"Good morning sweetheart. How did you sleep?" She squeals, and her happiness breaks my weary and melancholy mood.

"All right. I woke up before my alarm clock again." I sit down on the green fabric of the chair, taking a sip from the cup of orange juice sitting on the table. I wipe the excess film away from my top lip and attempt to smile at her.

"Maybe you aren't going to bed late enough. Too much sleep you think?" She glances over her shoulder from the frying pan and I laugh in doubt. Yea, too much sleep. That is my problem.

"I highly doubt it Mom. I'm as tired as they come."

"Well, I don't know what's wrong then." There is worry in her voice, as if this is a huge problem for both of us.

"It's not a big deal. It gives me more time to play in the morning anyway. Thanks though." I try to sound as nice as I can, even though my mind wants to scream. I'm so fucking tired I could kill someone.

"Do you want bacon?" I rub my stomach and wonder if I really need food. I'm likely to just skip first hour to drive to the gas station anyway. I don't know why I would eat bacon now.

"Uh, not really. I think I can wait till lunch."

"You sure? I don't want to eat it all myself."

"Yea, I'm sure. I'm not that hungry." I chug down the rest of the juice in the glass and get up from my chair. I quickly move over to my mother for a goodbye kiss before running out the door and to my car. The key turns roughly in the keyhole, chipping off a speck of paint as I take it out.

The clunky wheels of my car seem to get me there too fast, going at their top speed of sixty. Cold air hits my face as I walk into the school. It's always colder in there than outside. A jacket is necessary for all seasons.

"Rogy!" I hear a voice yell, and I see Carrie running towards me out of the corner of my eye. I brace myself as she jumps roughly into my arms. Her blonde hair grazes my face lightly, and I can finally see her blue eyes and bright smile.

"Hey Carrie." I respond unenthusiastically, and then let her carefully slide out of my grip. She's always been so joyful in the worst of times. A light burns eternally in the pit of her heart.

Carrie and I met freshman year, and for the past two years she has been there for me. She calls me almost everyday, usually interrupting my writing, but I appreciate it nevertheless. Our friendship is never ending. She is the only one who understands me, yet there is something missing. I feel like there is something in me that I have yet to express. For now, it will remain hidden.

"Why didn't you call me back last night? I was waiting by the phone!" She grasps my hand, swinging it back and forth with hers.

"Oh…sorry. I forgot. I started writing but…"

"That's okay." She forgives me quickly, and I let it go. Her mind swirls with varying emotions everyday. Those are the teenage years. "I forgive you honey. Just don't do it again. Promise?" I nod and she drags me to my locker.

"What'd you do last night?" I ask, yawning half way through my sentence. I pull out a book from the bottom of my garbage filled locker, digging through all of the crap that has gathered. Carrie gives me a judgmental look. I don't know how many times she has told me to clean all the shit out of this pigsty.

"Umm…not much. I stayed in and talked on the phone mostly."

"So, I wouldn't have been able to call you anyway." I give her attitude before slamming my locker closed.

"Yea, I guess." Her eyes close, and she leans against the burgundy metal of the wall next to me. I carefully brush the piece of hair lying on her face away, and smile. Carrie is the only person who can make me smile this early in the morning. "Thanks." She goes back to sleep, when seconds ago she was wide awake.

"Hey. You're gonna miss first period." I shake her shoulders, pulling her softly into my arms. She buries her face in my chest, moaning from fatigue.

"Ugh, I hate school."

"Oh come on. You were all hyper just a minute ago."

"Yea well..I changed my mind." She smiles briefly, and hugs me back. Sometimes I think Carrie could be my girlfriend. Last year she told me she had feelings for me, but I did nothing about it. I didn't even tell her what I thought. I just let it go. Now I'm beginning to think the idea of us isn't so bad.

"Carrie, wake up. You can't just fall asleep and expect me to carry you to your classes all day long."

"Oh, that would be nice. I would love you forever! Please Roger!" She begs, and I laugh before moving her slowly down the hall. She leans against my shoulder, groggily picking her feet up to walk.

"Well, to tell the truth I'd rather be with you all day then go to any of my classes." I explain, playing with the palm of her hand. Our fingers entwine and she smiles again, meeting my eyes.

"Your hands are so cold."

"It's this fucking school."

"I can warm you up." Her hands connect as she wraps her arms around my hips. I do the same to her, except at her shoulders. My lips meet with her temple, shyly showing her affection. For a second I hope she doesn't notice, but all I hear is a tiny giggle escape her lips. Her hair smells of cinnamon, and if you look closely there are dark brown streaks throughout. The clothes she wears are stylish, yet unique. Shopping with Carrie would be an interesting experience. Sparkles would never dare show in her wardrobe, but flowers can't seem to stay away. Anything that blooms appears on her skirts and blouses. Her pink skirt waves into my legs, rubbing between them as I make my way through the school.

"Here we are." We arrive outside the door of the physics room and Carrie moans.

"I don't want to go Roger. Can't we skip today?" She asks, trying to find anyway to get out of school today.

"What? You never skip. You always give me shit when I do."

"Well, now I'm starting to see why you do it." I chuckle softly at her before turning back towards the exit of the school.

"We could go now if you want. There are so many people here I don't think they'd notice." I glance around at all of the teachers standing in the halls, awaiting the ding of the first bell.

"Yes, let's go. I never do anything adventurous."

Before she can protest I pull her along to the door. We slip out, hand in hand, without anyone spotting us. Buses are still letting off at the front, and Carrie is bombarded by a group of her friends. I struggle to keep her in reach, but our hands are eventually torn apart.

"Carrie! Where are you going? The bell rings in five!" They scream around her, and she looks worriedly at me. I sigh with frustration, and dig through the girls to find her hand.

"Come on Carrie." I say, lugging her away from the distraction. She looks back apologetically at her friends, as they remain confused and betrayed.

My car is parked right by the entrance, and before I know it we are on the road. Carrie immediately falls asleep on the seat next to me, as I fight through the morning hour traffic.

"Where should we go?" I ask after I notice her wake up.

"I don't know. Maybe we could just spend the day in the city. Go to lunch, and just spend some time together."

"All right."

"But no guitar, Roger. I want you to spend time with _me._" Her hand presses against my shoulder, trying to convince me I don't need it.

"Okay, I guess." I give in, and hear her squeal next to me. The city comes into sight, the sun rising over the tops of the silver buildings.

"Let's go babe!" She runs out of the car into the street and motions for me to come with her. Without looking, she crosses the street to a small coffee shop, and my breath catches.

"Carrie! What the fuck!" I scream at her, watching her turn around in shock.

"What?" Her voice is so innocent. Just to think she could be lying in the street unconscious right now is a scary.

"You almost got hit by that car. Didn't your parents tell you to look before you cross the street?" I follow my own orders, glancing in both directions before meeting her on the other side of the sidewalk.

"Oh. Sorry. I'm just a little too excited."

"Do you think you need coffee? More caffeine won't help matters." I say, as she looks in the window to the shop.

"Yes. I'm so thirsty. Plus, it will be a fun start to our morning together." Her smile appears again, this time to persuade me to come in with her. I can't possibly refuse, and hold the door open for her to walk through. "Thank you hun."

It's nice and warm inside, added with the overwhelming scent of cinnamon and frosting. There are six or seven little tables, all occupied by various amounts of people. Shit. Where are we going to sit?

"Oh no. There are no seats." She pouts, just as someone gets up to leave. "Oh yes! Quick, grab that table." I'm not quick to get it, but instead I take my time walking over to it. "Roger! Hurry! Jesus!" I scoff and stick my tongue out at her.

"I'm getting there. Give me some time." I laugh, and she rolls her eyes at me. A whole day with Carrie will be quite an adventure.

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Like it? Then tell me by reviewing! Didn't that sound like a commercial? Okay, I'm done XD


	2. Caffeine Buzz

A/N: Hey, I changed my mind. Mark is coming in on this chapter! Yay for Mark! I decided it is better if you get both of their perspectives, so here you go. Yea daddy! Wink wink nudge nudge Marit!

Disclaimer: Mark, Roger and Maureen aren't mine, but Carrie definitely is. XD

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Mark's POV

My chin rests firmly on my palm, the only thing keeping me upright. My eyelids threaten to close several times, until I remember I am in class. Who need geometry anyways? I've always liked science better than math. I don't understand why I need any of this if I'm going to be a filmmaker.

"Mark? You alive over there?" I hear a soft voice call from the front of the room, and I'm snapped out of my thoughts.

"Oh yea Ms. Berg. I just didn't…"

"Never mind that. Just pay attention." She snaps at me, and I sigh in anguish. No one ever listens to me. She continues to teach as I drift in and out of consciousness. All the sophomores are probably staring at me now. I hate being the only freshman in my class. I always get punished for being smart. I should have just taken Algebra again with Maureen. At least then I would have someone to talk to.

Random numbers are thrown on the board, and I watch as the rest of the students take them into their notes. I avoid this, as I know I will never look in my notebook again. What's the point of writing something down if you don't need it? I get good grades on tests; all the information just seems to soak in when I hear it. I don't need to study. That may be the most arrogant thought that has ever struck my mind.

The bell sounds sharply in my ears, and I'm finally free from this hellhole. Now I have to get through an afternoon of shopping with my mom in the city. She always drags me there to get new clothes, as if I don't have enough. When I move out I am staying in one outfit for the rest of my life. Well…that might be a little disgusting. Then I definitely will never find a girlfriend. I've never really worried much about girls, as I assumed that Maureen would always be my back up. She would never leave me, as I would never leave her. But if someone came along, what other choice would I have but to?

My camera tightens around my chest, constricting my shirt to my body. The cold air stings my face, leaving my lips unable to move underneath the pressure of the wind. Then I see Maureen about to get on her bus.

"Maureen! Hey!" I scream, trying desperately to get her attention. Maybe she can help make my trip with my mom more enjoyable. They will have a fun time while I'm left alone to do whatever I want. I can always count on Maureen to distract my mother. "Maureen!" I run to the door of her bus, right as they fold up. Maureen looks innocently out the window at me, and smiles. Before I know it, she is at the doors, persuading the bus driver to open them. When he finally does, she jumps into my arms, pounding the metal knobs of my camera into my skin. "Ouch." I whisper, trying to let out my pain without Maureen feeling too bad about it.

"What is it? Something wrong? You need a ride? Cause I can't really help you there." She slaps the side of the yellow bus, and giggles at her own humor.

"No, no. I was just wondering if you wanted to come to the city with my mom and me. We're going shopping and I don't really wanna be alone with her." A second passes by, and Maureen contemplates her afternoon.

"Sure why not Marky. But you owe me." She adds, and I let a small smile creep across my face.

"Of course. But don't you owe me like…"

"Mark! Shut up." She stops me before I can prove her wrong, and grasps my hand to pull me down the sidewalk. I try to spot my mom's car, when I hear a horn honk. I look down to see a line painted underneath my feet. We are in the middle of the road.

"Holy crap!" I yell, dragging Maureen to the grass patch on the other side. "We almost got killed. What the hell Maureen!" Anger explodes from my mouth, and all I hear in response is a sigh, and a small beep from my mom's car.

"Oops. Sorry Marky. Come on, your mom awaits." Maureen gets out of that one, and I hope to death that my mom didn't see our stupid display. Then I'd be in for a whole lecture on how to look before you cross the street. "Hey honey?" Maureen turns to me before we reach the silver van my mother occupies.

"Yea?" I answer to honey, even though I despise when she calls me that.

"Do you have a girl in your life? Anyone special?" Her questions come out of the clear blue, as if this had been our topic of conversation for several minutes. I'm confused at first, then decide to answer with caution.

"Not really. Why?" Her dark brown hair blows gently in the wind, and she brushes it out of her face every few seconds.

"I was just wondering. You know, with the dance coming up and everything. Maybe, we could go together?" She avoids eye contact with me, and I can tell she is nervous. Whenever Maureen is being sincere, she never looks me in the eye.

"Of course. Who else would I want to go with, Mo?" At last I see her gleaming eyes staring giddily back at me. She pecks me on the cheek, no doubt leaving a lipstick stain on my pale white skin. "Is this your mom?" She points to the car directly in front of us, and I nod.

I open the door, allowing Maureen in first and soon following. My mom smiles at us from the driver's seat, and gives me a questionable look.

"Would it be all right if Maureen came with us? I mean she likes…"

"Sure Mark. That would be just fine. Hello darling." She greets Maureen, and forgets I am even in the car.

"Hello Mrs. Cohen." Maureen answers, in her high tone of voice she uses with my mother. She speaks as if she needs to impress her. I think she did that the first second my mother laid eyes on her chubby, joyful face. My mother has always wanted me to date Maureen, but I could never comply with her wishes. Something about Maureen and me just doesn't mix together. Something's missing.

"So, should we head out? Where to first?"

"Uh…can we get some coffee? I'm dying for a caffeine buzz." Maureen answers back speedily, and I nod in agreement. I've been falling asleep in class all day.

"Sure. If you'd like." My mom replies, and the car begins to excel forward. Maureen puts her hand on my thigh, and leans her head lightly on my shoulder. I see my mom look through the rear view mirror at us, flashing a cheesy smile in approval. Great, now she thinks that Maureen and I are together.

The car comes to a jolting stop, and Maureen jumps out before I can even get unbuckled. I doubt she really needs more caffeine in her body. Maureen is always hyper. We run quickly across the street, dodging a blue van that blows wind against our backs. My mother gives me a concerned look again, as we laugh at our close call. Our second one in nearly a half hour.

"A hot chocolate please?" I quietly ask the lady at the counter, as Maureen glares at me. "What?" I ask, feeling her big eyes on me.

"Hot chocolate? Why not coffee?"

"I've never really liked it much." I answer, and she scoffs.

"How can someone not like coffee?"

"I don't know, I just don't."

"Here ya go, kid." The old woman hands me a steaming hot cup, and I can smell the chocolate already. Maureen cringes at me, and then takes her cup cautiously. We sit down at the nearest table, and I wipe off some of the crumbs left from the previous occupants.

"You two going to the dance?" My mother asks, as she crosses her legs and takes a sip of her drink. I look over at Maureen and see her swallow eagerly, trying to answer.

"Yep! Can't wait! I need a dress!" Maureen yells, and then hesitates. "Well…I don't know if I really want a dress. Maybe just some nice clothes. I'm not a dressy kind of girl." She holds her cup up to her lips again at the end of her comment, and sips slowly, so she doesn't burn her mouth. Something I have already done several times on my hot chocolate. I could never manage to sip without singing my tongue.

"Mark we should get you some nice clothes to wear for the dance. And shoes, you need new shoes." Maureen plays with my feet under the table, a game of footsy that I refuse to partake in.

"Mom, I don't need new shoes. I like mine. They're comfortable."

"Oh, Mark. Comfort is not always that important." My mom sighs, and I roll my eyes at her. She's always worried about looking your best, not feeling your best. At times she is supportive, and other times not so much.

Twenty minutes later we walk down the street again, my mother and Maureen ahead of me, chatting up a storm. Maureen looks back at me every few seconds to see if I'm still there, and I flash her a small smile before she turns back to continue her conversation. Cars fly by us, and I glance down at my feet. My shoes aren't that bad. They are actually quite nice looking. I think my mom just wants to spend more money. My eyes stay focused on my sneakers, until I come to a halting stop. I run into my mom's back, and look up, irritated. I see Maureen running down the street towards a girl. A confused look overcomes my mother's face, and I hear Maureen yelling something that I can't make out. The girl runs towards Maureen too, and they eventually join in a hug. A guy with blonde hair, wearing a leather jacket and jeans, follows the girl closely; wrapping his arms around her waist every chance he gets. He looks confused by Maureen's presence, and scowls at her slightly before digging his face in the girl's hair. All three of them walk towards my mother and I, and I can finally make out what they are saying.

"You skipped? I thought you said you'd never do that!" Maureen scolds, and my mother turns to give me a concerned look.

"Yea, I know. But I couldn't stand school for another day. Besides, I got to spend time with my man for a day." The blonde girl turns to look at the guy next to her, and he smirks at her comment. His eyes meet briefly with mine, but I look away the first chance I get. Goose bumps run up and down my spine, as I awkwardly wait for Maureen to introduce us.

"Maureen?" My mom speaks up, probably waiting to meet the new kids as well.

"Yes?"

"Would you like to introduce us to your friends?" Maureen looks at both of them, then back at me.

"Oh, yea sorry Mrs. Cohen." She turns towards the girl and points her finger. "This is Carrie, she is a junior. We have drama together. Carrie this is Mark Cohen and his mother Mrs. Cohen." We all smile at each other, and my mom reaches out to shake Carrie's hand. She can always find a way to embarrass me, even if she's just being polite.

"It's nice to meet you." Carrie says shyly, and shakes my mother's hand.

"And you are?" My mother directs her attention towards the guy in the leather jacket, who has stayed under the radar until now. Well, from them at least.

"Oh…sorry." Maureen stutters. "This is Carrie's boyf…"

"He's not my boyfriend. We are just…friends." Carrie interrupts, and a red blush comes over her fair white face.

"Well, this is Roger. Carrie's…friend." Maureen finishes, and he nods at all of us. Roger. The name seems to fit.

"Are you a junior also, Roger?" My mom drills the new guy with questions, literally seconds after she has met him.

"Yea. I'm seventeen."

"Ah, well that's nice. Are you two going to the dance as well?" I snap my head towards my mom, but she pays no attention to me.

"Uhh…I'm not really sure yet." Carrie answers, and my mom sighs.

"Well, Maureen and Mark are going together. Maybe you two should join them. We could set up a little dinner. It would be fun."

"Mom, just let us figure it out okay? They probably don't even want to go." I say, giving an apologetic look to the three teens. Roger digs his hand in his pocket and leans his body forward slightly.

"Nah, that might be okay. I was gonna ask you anyway Car." He adds, and I can't help but smile. At least he doesn't think I'm a complete loser. My head fills with thoughts about a night between all four of us. Maybe Roger could connect me to some cool kids. He looks like one of those kinds of guys.

"Well, kids, we have to get going. We have lots of shopping to do. Unless…Maureen, you'd rather stay with these guys." My mom suggests, and I immediately clench inside. My stare shifts to Maureen who smiles at me. She knows I dread the thought of being left alone.

"I think I'll hang with Carrie and Roger. You two will probably get more done without me. Plus I never see Carrie anymore." Both girls nod and I sigh in anger.

"All right then, come on Mark." My mother pulls me across the street, as if she is rushing to get me away from them.

"Wait, unless Mark wants to come with us." I hear a voice say, and I turn around to see who. Roger has gotten away from Carrie's grip, and stepped forward just a little. His hands remain in his pockets, but a bright gleam comes from his face. Blond hair blows into his face, but he just ignores it, unlike Maureen.

"Can I?" I look back at my mom, hoping and praying for an acceptance.

"But, shopping. We have to…" She points dazedly at the car, prepared to leave any second.

"Mom, you know you'd just pick it all out anyway. What's the point of me coming?" I ask, and she gazes down at the front seat. I feel bad for leaving her, but I'm almost never invited to do something fun. This may be my only chance. I wait for her answer impatiently, grasping at the camera strap around my neck. I hope Roger doesn't notice my equipment, he might think lower of me if he knows I carry a camera around.

"All right, I suppose. I'll pick you up back here between five forty five and six."

"Okay."

"No later than six. Have fun, love you." I close my eyes in embarrassment, and slowly my feet pivot under me. I turn to see Roger smiling widely at me, then feel Maureen's grip pull me up onto the sidewalk with her. My mom's car drives sluggishly by us, and she gives me one final wave before she's out of sight. Finally, some time alone.

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Notes: Sorry that took me so long to write, but it's slightly longer than the last chapter so I hope that makes up for it! Hope ya liked the little Mark/Roger interaction! I thought it was cool to make Carrie and Maureen friends. So cute…anyways, later! Read and Review!


	3. A Fit of Uneasiness

A/N: Heehee…it's really late! I should be in bed but screw the world…it's Saturday and I intend to spend my nights writing. I can't wait to see what you all think of Mark and Roger's shopping trip in the city! So, I'll let you read it now and shut up!

Disclaimer: Jonathan Larson owns it all…although I wish I owned Roger…

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Roger's POV

"Should we get something to eat? I'm starving." Carrie whines even though I treated her to a heaping lunch at one.

"We don't have much time. Mark has to be back in two hours." I add, not wanting to waste time. Mark clutches at his camera, tightening the string around his shoulders and flashing me a nervous smile. I've never seen anyone carry a camera around before. It must mean he's creative. I wonder if he's one of those guys who just carries it around to look like he has a goal in life. Or is he someone who will push the camera in your face whenever something slightly interesting happens? I guess I'll find out soon enough.

"Oh yea." Carrie sighs, and Mark lays his hand on her shoulder. Some kind of warm sensation comes over my body as I stare intently at their contact. What the hell? It can't be what I think it is.

"If you want we can eat for an hour then walk around the city." He suggests, and Carrie looks longingly at me. She clutches her hands together, waiting impatiently for me to agree.

"I suppose. If it's okay with you Mark." I glance over at him, almost hoping he'll say that he is having second thoughts.

"Yep." _Damn it_. Maureen and Carrie squeal for absolutely no reason at all, jumping up and down with joy just because they get to eat. Mark rolls his eyes at me, and I laugh a little too loudly. He clenches his jaw tight, shivering from the cold, even though it has warmed up substantially since this morning. I dig my hands into my pockets, and watch the equipment around Mark's neck beat gently against his blue shirt. A metal knob leaves an imprint, and I'm oddly fascinated, as it gets deeper and deeper. He eventually notices me, and our eyes meet. I smile softly, implying that I'm just weird.

"So, where to?" Maureen asks after what seemed like an eternity of celebrating.

"I have no idea. How about…" I begin, when the girls overrule me.

"Chinese!" They yell simultaneously, then laughing maniacally over the coincidence.

"Oh…kay." Mark sighs, stepping in front of me to cross the street. His hand lies along the side of his body, blowing slightly in the wind. He must be fucking light. I can't really tell as his jacket hides the figure of his body. He's kind of short, but not enough to notice. Blond hair rests on his head, almost invisible. It looks like the sun, bright and pale. My eyes roll down the frame of his body, starting at his neck and moving down to his…

"Here it is. I love this place." Maureen interrupts my train of thought, snapping me harshly back to cold reality.

"Oh, okay." I clear my throat, trying to shake off what was just going through my mind. Mark smiles warmly as we make our way into the restaurant, as the smell of grease and vegetables become annoyingly apparent. Carrie sits down at a table, just big enough for the four of us, and I sit next to her on the green, ripped up chair. Various customers sit around us, some overweight, some skinny as a rail, some families, some couples, and some people who came to binge. It all seems so New York City.

"What are we gonna get?" Carrie asks, removing the scarf wrapped tightly around her neck. She slips it down around her body, then places it gently on the table in front of her, her fingers running in between the strings of thread.

"Chinese." Mark and I say together, throwing me into a fit of uneasiness. Mark just smiles, his usual answer to everything, and takes his jacket off. This makes his camera more visible, and I finally remember to comment on it.

"You carry a camera?" I ask as if I hadn't been staring at it only minutes before. He looks down at it, crooked and hanging against his body. A pink blush covers his cheeks when he glances back up at me, and I smile, waiting for an answer to my obvious question.

"Yea. I want to be a filmmaker. It's stupid I know, but if I didn't have it I would…"

"No, I think it's good. You're dedicated…or whatever." I end it casually, as if I don't really care that much.

"Oh, thanks." His blush gets deeper, turning into a dark red spread across his face. Carrie and Maureen carry on a conversation about shoes as Mark and I gaze curiously around the restaurant. I want to talk to him, but the girls are in the way. "So, you have any interests?" He asks, and I'm relieved one of us had the courage to speak.

"Yea, uhh…I play guitar and…write songs. Most of them are shit though." I lean back in my chair, sliding down the slippery green fabric.

"I've always wanted to play an instrument. I could never start, I always got bored of it. I guess that means I admire anyone who can play."

"Well…I don't know if I should be admired for what I play. It's pretty much just random chord plucking. Nothing special." Carrie shoots me a look and presses her hand to her chin.

"Roger, you can play really well. Don't be so modest. You know you play well too, you're just being an asshole." She snaps at me, and Mark laughs quietly. Carrie has always been defensive of my playing, even though she prefers it when I don't have my guitar with me.

"See? You have at least one fan." Mark points out, when a waiter shows up at our table. All of us order, Maureen taking the longest and most likely annoying the waiter. I cross my arms across my chest, and lay my head back, letting my eyes shut. I'm ready to fall asleep; I haven't been able to sit since we got coffee this morning. My legs stretch out a little too far, and I accidentally hit Mark between the legs with my knee. My body jumps up in shock, and I hear him gasp. The girls are again caught up in each other, completely ignoring what just happened.

"I…I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…" I stutter, trying to give some sort of explanation for why I just touched him in a very private area.

"It's okay. I…it's okay." His hands run through his hair, and his camera jostles in his hands nervously. I sit upright, tucking my feet tightly back, as far away from Mark as possible. My breathing takes a while to calm down, as my heart pounds roughly in my chest. Before long the food comes, and I stuff it in my mouth as soon as I can. Grease accumulates around my lips, and I stick my tongue out at Carrie.

"Eww! Roger, don't!" She squeals, and I glance over at Mark. He's been staring at me intently for a while now, and he tries to look away when I catch him. I really don't mind it. If only I could tell him that.

When everyone finishes I am forced to pay the bill, being the only one with money. The girls skip out ahead of us, grasping their hands together and giggling the whole way out. Mark walks next to me down the street, every few seconds briefly rubbing his arm against mine.

"So, you like school?" I ask him, and he laughs quietly.

"Yea, right. Does anyone?"

"Well, obviously I don't." I answer, jumping over the cement curb to cross the street.

"I could never skip. The whole day I'd feel guilty." He's such a perfect kid. He's like one of those geeky kids who get good grades in every class even if they don't like the subject. One who hands in their homework no matter what kind of shitty day they've had. I have never been one of those kids, nor will I ever be one.

"You should skip with me one time. It's great. We could just walk around the city." My hands shiver from the brisk wind, and I attempt to find warmth by burying them in my pockets.

"Kinda like we're doing right now?"

"No, just us. Without Carrie and Maureen." I say, trying not to sound too creepy, but genuine. I'd like to get to know him better, and maybe see what he films.

"Oh." He clears his throat, and looks ahead to the girls. They have forgotten we even exist. "Yea, that'd be fun. I usually don't get out unless it's with Maureen. It'd be nice to escape from her." A throaty laugh erupts from my mouth, and Mark giggles at the volume. I spot a little shop off to the right, full of kinky clothes and tacky knick-knacks.

"Here, come on." I pull his arm to follow me into the shop, leaving the girls to have fun ahead of us. I hold the door open for him, directing him to step inside. He smiles oddly at me, before hesitantly taking a step inside.

"This place is weird." He says, attracting the attention of the owner. The old woman stares at us creepily with her blue crusty eyes, and I duck Mark into the corner of the shop.

"Maybe you should check around before you insult people." I whisper.

"Sorry, it just came out." A familiar blush comes over his face, and I chuckle quietly at his embarrassment. I turn around to inspect the wooden shelves against the wall, picking up a hat and placing it over my blond waves. I face Mark, and cross my eyes. "That looks just great." He laughs, as I nod and remove it from my head.

"You should tape some of this." I suggest, and sure enough he flicks on his camera. He holds it up in my face, smiling vaguely behind it. "Hello. Jesus, you're close!" I say laughing, and he backs up a little.

"Close on Roger trying on ridiculous hats in the corner of a weird-ass shop." He comments to his camera, and shuts it off quickly. Out of the corner of my eye I see the owner making her way over to us. I panic, and push Mark into an empty doorway. "What the h…" He asks, and I cover his mouth with my hand. I turn my head to see if she's coming, stealthily peeking out of the door. Her gray blouse blows against her body when the door opens, and she snoops around the shop for a sign of us. Two minutes into our shopping trip we are already in trouble.

"Shhh…" I tell Mark to be quiet, and remove my hand from his confused face.

"Okay." He tries to be quiet, but instead I see the owner come closer to where we are. I press my body closer to his, making the gap in between us disappear. I can feel his warm breath on the nape of my neck, being as I am slightly taller than him. He looks up at me, confused and interested, waiting for me to move in the smallest way. "Roger…" I lean my head down, closer and closer to his face, until I am only inches away from making contact. The sweet smell of some sort of fruity lotion explodes in my nostrils, no doubt something that rubbed off from Maureen onto Mark.

"Yea?" I ask, barely coherent but still paying attention to anything Mark says.

"Is she out there?" My eyes spring open, and my mouth shuts. All of it was in my head, my pathetic and lonely mind.

"Uh…" I glance out the door, and notice that she has finally left. "No, she's gone."

"All right." He sighs, as he uncomfortably squirms against my chest. "We should probably go then." His feet swing around mine, and he makes his way out the door, leaving me alone and humiliated. I can't believe I almost kissed him. I almost kissed a _guy_. At the moment I didn't even think of it as a big deal, as if Mark wanted it badly too. Almost as badly as me. I lean my forehead against the blue wall and clench my fists. What the hell am I doing? "Roger? You coming?" I hear him say, and I finally leave the jinxed doorway.

"Yea, I'm here." Mark points to a rack of scarves, summoning me over to him.

"Look, I need a scarf." I laugh at his random thoughts and start to rummage through all of the scarves in the pile.

"What are you looking for? Colorful, or…normal…or…warm?"

"Uh…anything that looks good I suppose." His voice is still shaky, as both of our memories attempt to wipe away the image of what just happened between the two of us. I reach deeply through the massive heap of scarves, and grasp one in my hand. When I pull it out, I see white and black stripes staring up at me.

"Here! I love it, put it on!" I yell enthusiastically and sling the piece of thin fabric around his neck. He grabs the ends, pulling back and forth, creating friction with his skin. "You like it?" I ask, and he nods in joy.

"It's great." He answers, and a smile spreads across my face. I've been smiling too damn much today.

"You should wear it to school once. You would score chicks like none other." He scoffs and wraps the scarf once more around his neck.

"It's not a magic scarf, Roger."

"You don't need magic. All you needed was something to hide that hideous neck of yours." I say, and he sticks his tongue playfully out at me. A blush comes, and I try to hide it unsuccessfully, although he doesn't mention it. I don't know what the fuck is up with me today.

"Shit!" Mark yells as he glances at his watch and runs for the door.

"What?"

"It's two to six. My mom is gonna be pissed if I don't get back in time."

"Oh." I fill with disappointment at the prospect of being left alone with Carrie and Maureen. That is if I can ever find them half way across the city.

"Hey, you can't just leave with that little boy! That's what we in retail call stealing!" The owner yells at him, and he turns back to the counter she stands behind.

"Damn!" He digs in his pockets anxiously, searching for any trace of a coin or dollar bill. I run up to him and throw a five down in front of the woman, who takes all of it joyfully without giving me change. "Hey, thanks." He smiles and runs out the door, but not before glancing back to make sure I have a smile on my face.

I walk down the street in search for the two annoying girls who left me stranded before. Suddenly, I hear a familiar voice.

"Roger! What the hell happened to you?" Carrie yells and I turn around to see her inches away from me. She smacks me across the face and I grasp at the stinging wound.

"What the fuck! Mark and I just went into a little shop! Jesus Carrie!"

"Did Mark leave already?" Maureen asks, stroking the side of my face like we've known each other for years.

"Yea, he was late. He didn't even say goodbye." I pout, and start to walk away.

"Are we going home then?" Carrie asks, pretending like she didn't just abuse me.

"I am, I don't know how you two are getting home." I take my keys out of my jacket and head towards my car, royally pissed off and not in the mood to speak to two moody teenage girls.

"Roger Davis you are such a dick!" Carrie screeches as she gets in my car without permission, dragging Maureen along for the ride. Her skirt blows in the wind, and almost gets caught in the door, as we get ready to head home.

We sit in the car, silent almost the entire way. I'm surprised that Carrie is mad at me, even though she's the one who gave out the slap.

"So, what did you guys think of Mark?" Maureen peeks her head in between the two front seats, lying her hand on Carrie's shoulder.

"He was nice. Seemed quiet and subdued." Carrie's eyes wearily close. There must be something about my car that tires her out.

"I thought he was pretty cool. Well…I don't know. He was okay. I mean…I've seen…" I stutter, trying not to make anything obvious. Being attracted to another guy is not something I planned or something I would prefer to share with two women. Especially Carrie.

"Good. I'm glad you liked him. I really like him." The girls sigh; ready to jump into bed after a long day in the city. All that's on my mind is Mark. Mark and his scarf, holding his camera against his chest. His strawberry blond hair twitching in the wind with a huge smile dancing on his lips. My mind is beginning to fuck me over once again.

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Hope you liked it, I thought it seemed like an eternity since I updated last so I'll try to update sooner, I promise! Thanks to Carrie for a huge idea on the chapter after we both suffered from a major case of writing a little at a time…grr…I hate writer's block.


	4. My Imagination

A/N: It seems like forever since I last updated so I apologize for that but I had a big English speech and I haven't been getting much sleep lately. Sorry! Thanks for the reviews though! I'm so excited, I just got the Original Soundtrack to Rent. The play! Yay!

Disclaimer: Jonathan Larson…again…

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Mark's POV

"Hey" I slammed the door tightly.

"You're a little late Mark." My mother says, in a scolding tone.

"I know, I'm sorry. I lost track of time." I explain, hoping she'll allow it. She glances over at me, and a smile spreads across her lips.

"Okay. Just don't let it happen it again." She rubs my shoulder lightly before starting the car. "So how was your shopping trip? Maureen didn't want a ride?" She raises her eyebrow, trying to keep her eyes on the road and me at the same time. I think about what happened this afternoon. I had completely forgotten Maureen even existed.

"Uh…Maureen and Carrie kinda left us, so Roger and I hung out for a while." I say, staring off into the distance. Then I remember the white and black scarf around my neck. It feels like it belongs there, not foreign in any way.

"Oh, that's too bad. Well, hopefully Roger found them to get them home. Maybe you should call Maureen when we get back to the house. What's this?" She asks, pulling lightly on my new scarf, and I snatch it out of her hands defensively.

"Nothing, I bought a scarf at this little shop."

"Honey, I didn't give you any money. Did you steal it?" Her mind always jumps to crime. She obviously doesn't know me very well. I would be too paranoid to steal anything. I'd probably end up freaking out and confessing before I even got out of the shop.

"No, Roger bought it for me."

"Oh. That's nice of him." Her eyes flutter warily, and suddenly I don't feel very secure in the passenger seat.

"Yea. Mom, can you please wait till we get home to sleep?" I condescend, and she rolls her eyes at me.

"I'm not sleeping Mark. You didn't have a hard day like me." I highly doubt that. She stayed at the house all day doing laundry while I sat through school, taking tests and doing homework.

"Why, what did you do today?" She turns her head away from the road and glares at me.

"Well…I cleaned up your room a little and then met a friend for lunch. But I haven't been sleeping well…" She hesitates, and I hold in a laugh. I would give anything to stay home all day long and be able to leave to go anywhere, at anytime. "Did you eat, Marky?"

"Yes." I give her a blunt answer, knowing that she won't be satisfied.

"And what did you have?" She whines, and I sigh heavily. She can never just leave me alone with my thoughts. My thoughts of the day. My thoughts of Roger touching… "Marky? You hear me?" She interrupts my train of thought, probably for the better. Thoughts of Roger shouldn't fill my head. Not like that at least.

"Uhh…Chinese. It was pretty good. Greasy, but good." I add, and she giggles a little. I can always make her laugh at the most stupid things.

"Well…I didn't eat. Do you mind if I stop for some food?"

"As long as it's fast food. I'm not gonna like…come in and sit there watching you eat."

"I know Mark. I meant fast food." She sounds hostile, annoyed and done with all my crap. Sometimes I think I give her too much of an attitude, but then when she judges me, I know I'm not. I can never be myself.

My mind moves back to Roger reluctantly, about how close we were in the doorway. I stopped it, even though I didn't know where it was going. It was probably all in my mind. But why would something like that be in my mind? Now I'm starting to confuse myself. Thinking about another guy is something that's never happened to me before. Yet, thinking about Roger isn't the worst thing in the world. I choose to ignore my thoughts and shift them to the dance. An entire night, dancing with Maureen. Well, more like standing in the corner while Maureen dances with other guys. I'm used to being ignored by now.

I open the door quickly, wanting to run up to my room immediately. My mother grasps my shoulder, pulling me down on the couch.

"Don't you dare leave now." She says harshly, and I become confused. Why would she want me down here?

"Why? What do you want?" I cringe my face up, confused and needing the warmth of my bed, just to clear my mind.

"I wanted to tell you that it wasn't very nice, what you did today."

"What…but Maureen is getting…" She sits next to me on the couch, not even leaning back against the fabric of it.

"No, Mark. I meant when you left me. First of all that was supposed to be our day shopping. Then you invited Maureen, then completely left me to do all the shopping. I don't think that was very considerate of you." She whispers, trying to sound as kind as she can. I stutter at her words, feeling fury and confusion at the same time.

"S…sorry. I didn't know that…you always just pick out my clothes without my help anyways. What would the difference be?" I feel her hand grasp mine tightly, as if she's giving me horrible news. She can be way too intense sometimes.

"I was looking forward to spending the day with you."

"Well…sorry mom. Can I leave now?" I break from her grip and rise off the couch, rubbing my palms on my pants. Her eyes bug open, and she clears her throat.

"Sure, Mark." She grants me permission, and in a second I fly down the hall.

My bedsprings jut into my body, and I pull the warm blanket over my body, then my head. A sigh escapes my lips, and I'm finally alone with my mind. Alone, like always.

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A week later

I rub my eyes gently, yawning and grasping at my bag's strap. I look up at the school, feeling the worst urge to walk away. I don't want to go in so badly, I would rather die. The wind is strong, almost as if it's pushing me inside. Great, now even the weather is forcing me to go to school. I just can't win.

"Mark!" I hear a voice yell, expecting it to be Maureen, but the voice is deep. I turn around to see Roger running slowly at me, a huge smile on his face.

"Hey." I say clumsily, as my voice breaks for the first time in days. It has to be in front of Roger.

"Hey. I'm glad I caught up to you." He tries to catch his breath, running his hand slickly through his hair to straighten it out.

"Yea, me too." I look over at the school, dreading the entrance. "I haven't seen you in school. Where have you been?" I ask, trying my hardest to avoid his eyes. I've never been good at eye contact except with Maureen. With Maureen, I'm forced to look into her eyes, since she insists on staying two inches from my face.

"I've been here. I haven't skipped since last week. We just don't have any classes together. I saw you in the hall once though." He smirks, and I fight off a blush.

"Oh yea, right." I whisper. He stops right before we get to the doors, and leans into my body. I feel my heart pounding in my chest, and suddenly I'm aware of all the people around me.

"Do you wanna come with me today?" He mumbles, and I look around. No one is watching us, but my stupid mind never lets me do anything fun.

"Like…skip?" I ask naively, and he laughs at my freshman-like demeanor.

"Yea. Like we were talking about…remember?"

"Yes, I just never thought you meant…this soon." My voice lowers substantially, as if the whole school is listening to our conversation. I contemplate leaving. I really don't want to go to school, and I haven't been sick this entire year. I think I owe a day to myself.

"So?" He asks, prying an acceptance out of me.

"All right. But where are we going to go?" A smile takes over his face, and he pulls me along into the parking lot.

"Surprise. I don't want to spoil it." His hand grips tightly to my jacket, and before I know it I am waiting for him to unlock his car.

The road runs long and fast in front of us, a yellow line passing by every few seconds. I stare drowsily at the sky, fighting to keep my eyes open. My eyelids feel like a thousand pounds, dragging heavily on my tired eyeballs. I give in to temptation, allowing them to close, when seconds later I feel the car come to a halt. Roger taps me on the shoulder, forcing me to wake up from my second long nap.

"Hey, we're here." He says, smiling wide and tugging on the sleeves of his jacket to warm him up.

"O...okay." I say yawning, and he rolls his eyes at me.

"You should think about trying to get more sleep." His hand drifts over to my thigh, and grips tightly, just to get his point across. My eyes snap to our contact, and he removes his hand in a flash. "Uh…let's go." He quickly makes his way out of the car, shutting it closed while I sit in shock. My whole body shivered when he touched me. I shake the feeling off, pretending it was nothing, and get up out of the car. I see a bunch of kids, all gliding along the ice, and swear mentally. It's an ice skating rink.

"What the heck?" I ask, and Roger laughs hard at my cracking voice.

"What? You've never ice skated before?"

"Well…" My mind flashes back to my first attempt at ice-skating. It was about three years ago with Maureen. I remember the ice in my face. The smell of blood threatening to spill every time I fell. I remember being terrified, and vowing I would never ice skate again. Now it looks like I'm going to have to break that promise to myself. "I have…but I was not very successful."

"Oh." He laughs slightly, grabbing my hand with his. "That's okay. I can help you." Again I'm being led along. I haven't had much control lately over where my body goes.

"Okay." I mumble, my feet dragging behind me with Roger's fingers unintentionally entwined with mine. We arrive at a booth of some sort, and Roger grabs two pairs of skates. I can only hope that they are the right size, I don't want to act like a pest if they aren't.

"Here." He hands me the smaller pair, and sits down on a green bench directly next to us. He removes his worn out tennis shoes slowly, and begins to untie the strings on the skates. I stand, motionless, watching his every move with care. "Aren't you gonna put them on?" He looks up, still holding strings between his fingers, and raising his eyebrow. I stumble to sit next to him, and try to follow his actions identically.

"How the hell did you think of ice-skating?" His head cocks to the side as he makes a knot with the laces. A smile is all I get for an answer before he returns to fitting his skates on perfectly. Mine are a little tight, squeezing the ends of my toes, but God knows I won't be able to stay up on them for very long anyway.

"Ready?" He asks, standing up and offering his hand out to me. I skim it with my eyes, studying the new calluses and short nails. My hand reaches out slowly, and I get ready to steady my feet beneath me. I feel weird using Roger as a support system, seeing as we only met a week ago. He doesn't move one inch as I put all my weight on him, and before I know it, I find myself completely trusting him.

"Whoa." I almost take a fall into him, but balance myself before it happens.

"Come on Mark, we aren't even on the ice yet." He whispers, hoping that I didn't hear him, but I feel a blush come to my cheeks. It lowers my self-esteem quite a bit, needing all of this help from a stranger. "Okay, the ice is coming! If you need to fall into me, just do it. Don't be afraid. I can hold ya. Okay?" His eyes perk up, and he takes one careful step onto the ice, holding our connected hands out to the sides.

"All right. I'll try not to fall."

"Don't worry about it." He says kindly, and I let a small smile come across my face. He reacts the same way, his lips curving gently and dimples appearing deep in his cheeks.

"Wah!" I scream as I extend my skate out onto the ice, slipping immediately. Roger laughs quietly at me, as his hands move slowly up my arms. He's trying to be supportive, but it's just making me confused. I like the feel of his hands on me, but my mind won't accept it.

"It's okay. See? You're completely on ice! Look, Mark!" He persuades me to open my eyes, and sure enough, I am standing on ice. The translucent white sits beneath me, waiting to trip me into embarrassment. I know that my first move will result in feeling the cold ice on my pale white face.

"I c…can't m…move." I utter, and Roger grasps tightly onto my upper-arms.

"Yes you can. Just try. I've got you." His voice is so patient, so quiet and gentle, that it soothes me from my fear. I slide my foot forward cautiously, then the other, then again, then again, until I am gliding along with Roger attached to me. His smile grows wider with every stride, pride and joy growing up inside of him. "See? You're doing it Mark! You don't even need me!" His grip loosens, and I feel insecure. There is a gap, nothing to hold me up. Hesitantly I continue, making my way across the entire rink, while Roger watches me carefully.

"Holy crap, I'm skating!" I say shakily, but still proud of my accomplishment. Not soon after however, I'm on my ass. I sit; hands sprawled on the ice, as I feel the freezing, water seep through the back of my jeans. Then I see Roger skating quickly towards me.

"Mark, it's okay. It was your first fall. You were up for at least five minutes!" He tries to cheer me up, while lifting my humiliated body off of the ground. Our hands hold each other securely, and he pulls me to my feet. I try again to skate, when my skates slip out from under me.

"Holy sh…" I cry, as my balance is taken away. I'm finally forced to fall into Roger, fitting perfectly between his arms. His form stays steady, not even twitching as I collapse.

"You okay?" He asks, worried.

"Uh…yea." I answer, looking up into his eyes. I straighten my body out, until we are eye to eye. His hands rest firmly on my elbows, and mine on his shoulders. A sense of awkwardness appears, but Roger is quick to ignore it. He leans forward only a little, making our bodies press together. I gasp at the surprise, realizing maybe it's not all in my head.

"Mark?" His eyes close loosely, and I breathe heavily as the warmth of his face starts to affect me.

"Yea?"

"What are we doing?" I spring back suddenly, making myself fall once again. This time Roger doesn't catch me, and I end up back on the ice.

"What the hell? You said you had me!" I scream at him, not meaning a word. My frustration and confusion has built up into taking it out on Roger.

"I'm…I'm sorry. Well…I kinda got freaked out because…"

"I wasn't going to do anything!" I yell, now angry because he didn't want it too. My mind whirls inside and out, misjudging every little move Roger has made. It was all a lie.

"I know…I mean, but weren't you?"

"Weren't _you_?" I ask angrily, and he looks down in disappointment.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…to confuse you…" His eyes avoid mine, staring at the ice below him.

"You didn't. I'm confusing myself. The thoughts…I mean…never mind." I huff, and head off of the ice, to safe ground four feet away.

I change quickly back into my shoes, and ready myself for leaving. Then I realize that I have no way of getting home without Roger. He took me here, instead of school. I can't call my mom to come pick me up. I'm screwed.

"Mark, wait!" I hear behind me, and breathe a sigh of relief. Maybe he can still get me home. "Mark, I'm sorry. I am. I'm confused too."

"I'm not…_gay_." I whisper, and he bugs his eyes out in surprise.

"You think I'm gay?"

"Well…"

"Mark, Carrie and I are going out. I thought…I thought we were just…" He sighs heavily, forcing the word out of his mouth. "…friends." All of my hopes crush down on top of me, but I can't show it. I can't act like I wish we were more than friends.

"We are." I snap back defensively, unable to handle the reality that I might like Roger. For now, I'm going to have to push it out of my mind. Out of my imagination.

"Oh…okay. Good. That's good." He smiles sadly, and sits down to take off his skates.

We walk awkwardly out of the ice skating rink to Roger's car, and I get in reluctantly.

"Now where are we going? It's only nine." I say, and Roger smiles.

"Food? Then I could drop you off for fifth period." He mumbles.

"Yea sure." The car moves forward slowly, and I glance out the window. Suddenly I feel Roger's hand return to my thigh, just like it had been before.

"Mark, don't feel bad, I mean…I kinda…felt…" He stutters, and I push him off of me.

"I don't feel bad. I don't know why you're making such a big deal out of this. It's nothing." My voice is harsh and cold, and I regret the words the second they fly out of my mouth. All of this is going way too fast. We hardly know each other and already I'm being rejected.

"All I'm saying is that I…I…" He laughs lightly, obviously embarrassed about his thoughts as well. "I felt it. I almost did something, but…you know." He finishes, and I feel my heart jump up in my throat.

"You did?" Our eyes connect, and he nods gently. "I did too."

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Notes: Did ya like it? Was it okay? XD Thanks to Erin for some plot ideas and of course Carrie because, she's Carrie. XDD Review guys! You are excellent at it! PS…for those readers of my story "I Have Always Loved You" it is definitely not over!


	5. Would You Be Mad?

A/N: It's literally days until I see the play! Grr...I can't wait any longer. Thank you guys so much for sticking with me, especially the people who read my other stories! It's nice to hear from you after every update! Hope you like this one!

Disclaimer: Characters are Jonathan Larson's.

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Roger's POV (2 weeks later)

"You like it?" Carrie screeches, spinning in a wide circle. A pink dress covers her body, strapless and long, yet showing as much skin as possible. The tennis shoes on her feet actually look all right with the gown, as she stands on her tiptoes, pretending she's wearing heels.

"It's very pretty." I tell her, not knowing if there's truth in my statement. "But does this mean I'll have to wear a pink tie?" I complain, and her dress immediately becomes motionless. A frown covers Carrie's face, as she creeps over to the chair I'm sitting in.

"I suppose I could get another color." She strokes the side of my face lightly with her thumb, teasing me to kiss her. "But I really like this one…and the dance is in a little more than a week…" Her lips pout sadly, and I sigh in anguish.

"Fine, you can get that one. I just don't want any shit because I'm wearing pink." Before I'm able to meet her mouth again, she jumps up clapping in joy. The top layer of her dress bounces up and down with her body, floating through the air with grace, then landing back against the rest of the translucent pink.

"You won't. Everyone thinks you are quite the man, baby." She smirks at me, but I doubt what she said would be true if everyone knew the thoughts running constantly through my mind. Lately I can't seem to get one person out of my mind. I don't think everyone at school would believe I'm so cool if they knew I'm thinking about a _guy_.

"Sure." I sigh, and slouch onto the leather like fabric of the chair. Carrie checks herself out in the mirror one more time before heading to the changing room.

"We're going to lunch with Maureen baby! Is that okay?" She screams from behind the blue door, as I see the dress slip off around her ankles.

"Uhh…will anyone else be joining us?" I ask, hoping her answer will be a good one.

"Hmm…well Maureen might bring that little sweetie…what's his name?" She stumbles slightly into the wall, cursing at her shoes before continuing to dress.

"Mark?" I snap quickly, and she giggles.

"Yea. Jeez honey, you have a good memory." Yea, I have a good memory. I remember every single detail of Mark's face, his laugh, his voice, his smile. The way he looks when he's embarrassed, or when he thinks something is funny. Everything stays crisp in my memory, no matter how much I try to push it out. Carrie is my girlfriend now. It's unfair to be thinking so much about someone else. Especially while I am with her. Carrie appears from the dressing room with a big smile, dressed now in a loose sweatshirt and a long skirt. I don't think anyone else would have joined those two pieces of clothing together but her.

"Ready?" I ask, and she nods before snuggling herself underneath my arm.

"Chinese? That okay?" I roll my eyes at her. I would have thought Maureen would be sick of Chinese by now.

"Are you just bumming a ride off of me as usual?"

"No, Roger. I'm taking the bus. Or a cab rather!" She elbows me roughly in the stomach and I chuckle. It doesn't take long for an apology, as she meets my lips quickly, pulling out from under my arm and pushing her body against mine. It surprises me slightly, but I'm unable to sink into her touch. It never seems comfortable to kiss her. She's always seemed a little too much like my sister. But I've gotten myself into this, and I don't intend to leave anytime soon.

"Well…I guess you can get a ride with me and save yourself a little dough." I yawn and open the car door for her.

"Thanks darling. I appreciate it." Her pink tongue springs out of her mouth as she dips her head down to get in the car.

I'm sick of these lunch dates. I'm sick of it all. I'm sick of hanging out with Carrie. I love her, but only as a friend. I think that's as much as I ever will love her. But she will never understand it. I always knew there was something missing, and now it feels like that something is being ignored. It's right there. He's right there. Why won't I let myself acknowledge it? I like Mark, but it's not a big deal. I just want to hang out with him more, to get to know him. It's nothing out of the ordinary. It can't be. I'm just scaring myself because I haven't had a good guy friend in a while. Maybe I forgot what it felt like. I just want to be friends, but I'm freaking myself out for no reason at all.

But when I almost kissed Mark, when his face was centimeters away from mine, it felt right. I felt like I fit there. I never feel like that when I kiss Carrie. Sometimes I brace myself before she kisses me. I'm sick. I'm insensitive. I'm an asshole. Carrie loves me. She knows me. This is all just a stupid phase. Doesn't every guy feel like they like another guy at one point? I can't act on it, I'm not gay. I can't be. I've never felt it before, I don't understand why all of a sudden it would pop up on me like this. I'm looking way too much into it.

When we pull up to the oriental restaurant, I see Maureen and Mark sitting at a table inside. They are deep in conversation, Maureen laughing hysterically at almost everything Mark is saying. He looks comfortable, his camera fit perfectly between his hands, and elbows situated on top of the red table. He's wearing the scarf I bought him a couple weeks ago, the last time I saw him. I've tried so hard to find him at school, but there are too many fucking people. I think about if I should just ditch Carrie, or follow her with pride. After not seeing Mark for a while, I'm afraid he'll think I've been ignoring him. In a small way I have. I just don't want to make things more awkward. Before my mind can twist around it anymore, I feel Carrie's hand grasp my shoulder.

"You coming?" She asks after I sit motionless for a while, staring at Mark through the window.

"Umm…I don't know." I mumble, shrugging back onto the driver's seat. Her eyes roll condescendingly as she mopes at me.

"Please Roger? We have never actually had a real date! You owe me this!" She stares up at me lovingly, and I reluctantly nod my head.

"Fine." I sigh, and see a huge smile spread across her face. I meet my lips with her cheek gently, and she giggles with joy. I don't see how this could be a date if all she's going to do is ignore me the entire time. She's the reason Mark and I hung out in the first place.

"Hi!" Maureen screeches as Carrie runs to give her a huge hug. Mark smiles kindly at both of us, meeting my eyes quickly and hesitantly. Suddenly I realize that I can't stay here. I can't hang out with Mark. I know I'm going to fuck myself up. I can't take it.

"Hey." He says, and I smirk sadly in reply, almost apologizing for what I'm about to say.

"Hey, I'm not staying. I just wanted to walk Carrie in. Sorry man." I panic, and give a brief wave to Carrie as I walk out the door. Sweat covers my body, and the cold wind that rushes towards me doesn't help. My hands roughly rub my temples, and I try to ignore Mark calling me in the background.

"Roger!" He yells, and before I know it, his hand is resting on my shoulder. I turn slowly to see his red face behind me, frowning with disappointment. I bet he was looking forward to seeing me. To tell the truth I want to hang out with him, but I'm afraid. Afraid of rejection again. I can't take liking him, but being denied…it just adds to my confusion. "Hey…what was that about? You don't wanna see me or something?" He gets right to the point, making me laugh uncomfortably.

"It's not that I didn't wanna see you…it's just…since last time it's been…I don't know. I'm just tired. I just…I can't…" My voice sputters out of my mouth slowly but surely, leaving a baffled look on Mark's face. After a few tries at an explanation, I finish with a laugh. "I don't even know what the fuck I'm saying." His head drops with a chuckle after I shut up, and I blush at how damn cute he is.

"It really doesn't sound like it." He agrees, and I quickly glance back at my car. Talking to Mark has gotten me thinking that I want to stay. That I want to be confused. That it's all right to like him. Even though he doesn't like me. Maybe I should just go for it. Just do it. Do what I want. I don't know what I have to lose. A friend? But I want to be more than Mark's friend.

"Mark, I'm sorry."

"For what?" He backs away only a centimeter, but I'm still able to notice. I build up the courage to make a move, even though I know it's going to turn out horrendously.

"For ignoring you."

"Well you didn't…"

"Yes I did. After the last time we saw each other I got scared and I didn't know how to…act around you anymore. I've never felt this way around…I didn't know…shit…" I sigh, knowing that I've lost my concentration once again.

"Roger, it's okay. You don't have to be so scared around me. I thought after what we said that you'd want to…well…that you'd be more comfortable around me. I thought we were…" His eyes stare intently at the sidewalk beneath him, under his worn green tennis shoes and dirty shoelaces. "Would you be mad?" He springs out of nowhere, and I dig my hands in my pocket to try to stay warm.

"Mad about what?" My hair blows in the light breeze, making it just cold enough to develop goose bumps on my clammy skin.

"If I…kissed…you." He stutters, and I feel a breath catch in my throat. _He _wants to kiss _me_? I open my mouth to answer when his lips collide briefly with mine, soft and gentle, yet affirming. Once he's able to break from me, I pull him roughly back, not letting him resist. The kiss is awkward, but I feel a connection. We're both sure we want it. My skin discovers every part of his, hugging his bottom lip tight in my mouth. Hands appear suddenly on my waist, pulling me tighter into Mark's body. My back hits the side of my car, and I steady myself on it, leaning back to make things more comfortable.

"No…" I sigh as we separate, trying to stay as close as possible to him. His fingers remain tangled in my belt loops, holding on for dear life.

"I was so afraid you would push me away…" He presses his forehead to mine, and I close my eyes in contentment. Why did I deny this all along? It feels so right to kiss him, to let him know that I like him too. Then the fog clears from my cloudy mind. Carrie.

"Shit, Mark." I curse, and almost whine at the prospect of moving from our comforting position.

"What?" The lines on his forehead wrinkle in confusion, until I casually glance over at the Chinese restaurant. There is no way the girls would have seen us, but they are there. They are why we can't do this.

"Carrie is my girlfriend. I shouldn't have kissed you Mark."

"I kissed you." He snaps back jokingly, trying to make me seem like the good guy. It's so adorable, that I can't help but lean forward to peck him on the mouth again.

"Now I kissed you." I smirk, and gently untangle from his grip. "Let's go." I pull him along to the restaurant, enjoying the feel of our fingers grasped together, for I have to let go once the girls are in sight. We can't risk the slightest bit of a clue about what we have just done.

"Wait." Mark stops me in the middle of the sidewalk, keeping our hands connected.

"Huh?"

"So, we're just going to ignore what happened? Just go back to our lunch and forget about this?"

"What else can we do?"

"I don't know…I…" He stumbles lightly over his words, and now I recognize this insecure Mark.

"Look. Maybe one day I'll tell Carrie, but not now. Not until I know what I feel isn't just…"

"Fake?" He finishes my sentence, and I sadly nod. It hurts me to say I'm not sure I should be making decisions like this. "All right. I guess…I mean…does this mean you're gonna go back to ignoring me?" His eyes look up at me, so sweet and tender. I would give anything to kiss him again, but I've given in too much today. I shouldn't have kissed him back in the first place. Not when I knew I couldn't do anything about it. Now I've just gone and confused him as well.

"No, of course not. We're just friends. Kay?" I ask, desperately wishing for him to agree. Being rejected as a friend would add to my insecurity.

"I suppose." He accepts it, and we finally make our way into the restaurant. This is going to be a long lunch.

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Notes: That seemed like it went too fast? Hmm…what do you think? Was it okay? Review and tell me! PS…Sorry to Carrie…I think I kind of stole the last line from her. So copyright to Carrie! XD Love you guys!


	6. Confusion Stays Behind

A/N: Okay, this chapter was a little slow going…I'm having a bad case of not knowing WHAT THE HELL I'm going to write next! But, I've gotten over it and hopefully this chapter shall satisfy you.

Disclaimer: Characters, all Jonathan Larson, you know the drill.

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Mark's POV

I run the feeling of his lips over and over in my head. Those tiny moments when I had him. I had him in my arms, in my grip, against my body, never wanting to let him go. But the moment faded away, and now I want it back more than anything I've ever wanted before.

As quickly and rapidly as the thoughts pace through my mind, I push them away. Maureen. I should focus on Maureen. Roger said himself that we can't do anything about our feelings. I barely have any feelings anyway. I'm sure it's just because Roger's such a nice guy.

"Marky! Two more days!" Maureen's annoying whines snaps me out of my head for once, and I entertain her with a small smile before returning to my lunch. A peanut butter and jelly sandwich sits in front of me, no doubt made perfectly, every inch reeking of my mother's love. She spends way too much time doing things she doesn't need to perfect. I would be fine with a crappy sandwich. Sometimes I've even seen her make the jelly into a smiley face before squishing it. Suddenly the lunch is making me nauseous. "Mark! Are you listening to me?"

"Mhmm…" I shrug, reluctantly slipping a nasty looking chip in my mouth. Maybe Mom spends way too much time on the sandwich and blows off the rest of the lunch. Maybe I'll start making my own lunch.

"Two more days until the dance! I can't wait. Us four are going to have the best time! Carrie's going to look so adorable! Then Roger…"

"Can we not talk about it?" I say calmly, bursting inside. I can't possibly talk about Roger with Maureen. Something's going to slip.

"But…Mark! I'm so excited! Why don't you want to talk about it? Don't you want to go? Aren't you excited?" She pouts her big puffy lips, and I roll my eyes. Does she really expect me to disappoint her now?

"No, I am excited Mo. I just don't feel like hearing about how cute Roger and Carrie are going to look together." I sigh as a picture of Roger and Carrie pops into my mind. They're going to be dancing, kissing, cuddling, holding hands, too much for me to handle. Roger will look great in a tux though.

"Why not? Are you jealous of Roger, Mark? You afraid you're not gonna look great?" She giggles, chomping roughly down on the banana in her hand. Yea, I'm jealous of Roger. More like of Carrie.

"No, I'm not jealous. I could really care less about what I look like. Everyone knows that people hate freshmen, we could wear chicken suits and we'd still be ignored." Maureen leans against the wall behind our lunch table and frowns. I sort of feel bad for ruining her happy mood. But I'm not in a good mood. Something about me hates when people are happy and I'm not.

"That's not true. Carrie and Roger are juniors and they don't ignore us. Roger seems to think you're pretty…"

"I don't wanna talk about Roger!" I yell, trying not to draw attention to myself, then realize that I seem suspicious. "Or Carrie!" I finish, and Maureen widens her eyes.

"I'm sorry Marky." Her head droops, pressing her chin to her chest. "Is something wrong with you?" She asks, looking up, and I shake my head.

"No, just tired. Sorry." I explain, and decide that I'll let her talk about Carrie and Roger if she really wants to. I should get used to talking about Roger, seeing Roger, talking to Roger, laughing with Roger, and not being able to _be with_ Roger.

"You better get sleep before the dance young man. I don't wanna be dancing with an unconscious limp vegetable." She moans, and I chuckle lightly. Who knows if I'll even pay attention to her all night long? Who knows how it will turn out? Maybe Roger will be distant. Maybe he'll be too close. I haven't seen him since our little interaction, except for when we had lunch directly after it, then once in the hall.

_My feet click beneath me, my eyes burning with fatigue. Biology was super boring today. I don't know why I bother with school. I barely concentrate in class and yet it's still easy as hell. I don't need this much time to think. It's too much. Things come into my mind that shouldn't be there. The kiss. His lips. His hair. His clothes. His face. His smell. His touch. Everything about him never seems to fade from my memory. I keep telling myself I don't have feelings. That I don't like him. But every time those feelings are ignored, they spring back harder than ever._

_The strap on my bag is slightly torn, worn away from years of picking at it, and the endless weight of my textbooks. I feel sort of sorry for it, all that shit in it at one time. Now it's coming apart and I all do is pick at it more. _

_Suddenly I look up to see a very familiar face staring me in the eyes._

"_Hey." He says casually, and I stumble over how to answer. As if it's a hard comment to reply to._

"_Hi." I manage to squeak out. I've never been this nervous around anyone before. Maybe it's weird that someone I kissed is still talking to me. The only person I've ever kissed before is Maureen, because she forced me to during a game of spin the bottle. Roger is the only person I've ever wanted to kiss. Adding to the awkward situation, we're both male. _

"_How've you been?" He asks, and I blush slightly at the sound of his smooth voice floating through my ears. I've missed it. It's annoying just listening to Maureen ramble constantly. Roger is relief._

"_All right I guess. I'm getting a little sick of Maureen talking about the dance." My fingers find the strap of my bag again, flicking the fabric lightly. His lips curve into a smile, setting me off as well. I'm about to burst with happiness. I haven't seen Roger in what seems like so long. _

"_Aren't you excited? I mean you two are going to have so much fun!" He chuckles at his impression of Maureen before tapping me lightly on the shoulder. "I gotta get to class. I'll see you later." He brushes past me before I can respond, out of my sight in mere seconds. _

"_Okay." I whisper to myself, and close my eyes in anguish. I'm swooning way too much. Roger is my _friend._ Nothing more. I shouldn't have to tell myself that more than once. Maureen is your girlfriend. Maureen. Maureen. Maureen. Maureen. _

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Two days later

I sit silently, my hands clasped together in my lap, my head bobbing up and down. I'm about to fall asleep, but I'd probably end up getting a sermon from Maureen if I did. Her house smells just like cinnamon caked on top of apples and peaches. Her family has always been welcoming to me, never bitter or harsh. They accept Maureen with everything she does. I wish I had a family like that. Maybe then I wouldn't be so afraid to acknowledge my feelings.

Before I'm able to drift off, Maureen bursts out of the bathroom, decked up head to foot. I can't help but gasp in her beauty. She's always been beautiful, but this…this is just amazing.

"Mo…holy shit." I sigh, rising up from the pink chair I've been occupying for the last hour, waiting for her to be ready. She giggles as I gawk in awe. I've never been this attracted to her before. Her dark brown hair flows down her white creamy back, cascading, while sparkling in the setting sun. Her dress clings tightly around her knees, only long enough just to reach them. I never thought that Maureen would look particularly ravishing in a dress, but oh how I was wrong. The blue fabric accents her gleaming eyes, blending perfectly together. She's barefoot, raising herself up on her black painted toes. The sleeves are cut off around her shoulders, and I can see her collarbone awkwardly visible right above the frills of the dress.

"Like it?" She raises her eyebrows, and I nod in a daze. "Yay! I'm so happy. I can't wait till Carrie sees me! And I can't wait to see Carrie! And Roger, they are going to look so cute together…and I just…" She jabbers on, and I find myself slouching back to the chair in the corner, soaking in only chosen words from her sentences. My dress shirt is slightly itchy, sticking to my wrists a little too tightly for my liking. "Marky, is something wrong? You haven't been yourself lately." Maureen bends down to my level, keeping her legs together carefully and trying not to touch my perfectly ironed pants.

"No, I'm fine. Just…amazed at how beautiful you look." I pass off my weary state of mind as a compliment, and she snickers before grasping my hand in hers. I'm dragged down the stairs gently behind her, mentally preparing myself for the night ahead.

"Carrie and Roger should be here any minute. Roger's driving us in his car. Did you know he had a car?" She shrugs her shoulders at me, as brief memories of Roger's car flood through my mind. His hand on my thigh, talking about…Jesus Christ. You would think I'd known him forever. Maureen. Maureen. Maureen. Maureen.

"Yea, I know." I answer quickly, and then hear a small yet annoying honk come from outside. Maureen's parents snap pictures of her and I, blinding me before we head out the door.

Roger gets out of the car first, a black suit covering his body, his long blond hair curly and wavy in it's own way. I can tell he didn't do anything to it. Good thing. His outfit is totally black, topped off by a neon pink tie covering the buttons of his shirt. I wouldn't think Roger would be one to wear pink. Then, Carrie steps out, and I understand. Her dress is not nearly as beautiful as Maureen's. It is more…elegant, more royalty wear. But I would expect that from her. Roger smiles gently before complimenting Maureen on her dress, then allowing the two girls to squeal at each other's splendor.

"Hey. You look…good." I say when he reaches me, as he softly presses his tie against his body, keeping it from blowing up in his face.

"Thanks. You do too." He answers, and stands next to me. Our hands lie at our sides, dangling in the wind, naked and vulnerable. I feel like I should reach for his. The girls can't see us, why not? "This will be…interesting. Carrie couldn't stop talking about it ever since we made reservations. Then picking the dress…God." His voice is tired, yet loving. I can tell he cares for Carrie. The thought of grabbing his hand suddenly seems stupid and irrational. That is, until I feel fingers brush against mine. I look down to see him attempting to stealthily hold my hand in his, and I accept hastily. The girls are again caught up in their own world, not aware of anything that's going on.

"Roger…" I sigh, and he lets go right away. The seconds of joy are over. Confusion stays behind.

"We should go." He interrupts me, grinning falsely, and almost running to his car. The girls pile in after him, and I'm left on Maureen's driveway. I consider not getting in at all. It would be better for me to keep my distance. Right when I think things could happen, the idea is ripped out from under me. But when I see Roger's eyes staring sadly up at me from the driver's seat, almost begging me to get in, I can't help but comply to his wishes.

I climb in next to Maureen, watching her heels shift excitedly under her, and breathe a sigh of…I don't know what. Of want? Of need? Of something I can't have. Of something I shouldn't have. Something I should deny myself, but I'm too stupid to do it. I feel the car start, and before I know it, we're on our way to the restaurant. Maureen grapples my hand in hers, and I let it stay. I have to get used to doing things I don't want to do.

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Notes: I'm so tired. Please review. I hope you liked. I'm sorry for not updating in a while. Oops…XD Thanks guys! Love yaz!


	7. I'm Here

A/N: Oh jeez, after two days of staying home sick from school, I am ready to begin my recovery. I just want to thank all the reviewers, and say I'm sorry that I'm not one of those people who respond to every review. I have three stories out right now, and any extra time I have is spent writing. So believe me, I appreciate ALL of the reviews. You guys keep me going. Thanks a bunch! In this chapter I add yet another OC, so I'm sorry for that, but they have friends. Accept it people! I'm sure you'll like her.

Disclaimer: Jonathan Larson's.

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Roger's POV

The car stops in front of our tall, gray school and I hear Carrie giggle quietly next to me. She seems to be almost one hundred times more excited than I am. I rest my palms on my legs, and turn off the ignition.

"So, should we go in?" I ask, turning to face the three occupants of my vehicle. Maureen smiles and nods, Carrie rolls her eyes, and Mark's bea…

"Of course we should stupid. Come on." Carrie grasps my wrist in her hand, pulling me uncomfortably and awkwardly out of her door. Maureen laughs at her forcefulness, but I'm used to it. I'm usually told what to do by Carrie. She's almost more commanding than my own mother. Dinner was repetitive, avoiding Mark's eyes, trying to keep my focus on Carrie the entire time. I've fallen into an endless pit of denial. Denying my true feelings for Mark, for Carrie, and about who I am. Every time I see Mark my head spins, I feel so happy deep down, so comfortable whenever we talk. It was so stupid of me to start something with Carrie when I knew I don't really like her that way. I guess I just needed comfort and safety. I need to know that someone likes me. That was before Mark came into my life.

"Ready?" Mark whispers quietly before we enter, and I turn to smile at him, simultaneously taking a deep breath in. Maureen taps him on the shoulder, and his lips drop to a frown as he turns around to greet her. "No…I don't think so…" I hear him say, after she asks him for the millionth time if she looks fat. Carrie beams with anticipation as she hitches our arms around one another, the skin of her glistening arm against the rough fabric of my jacket. As she leads me inside, I hear Mark sigh behind me. In the back of my head I wish he were my date instead.

The school seems warmer than usual, crowded with students and their dates; everyone dressed up in formal wear. I don't recognize a lot of them for two reasons. I don't know half the people in our school, and the half I do know I've never seen all prettied up before. Our school is so big that I see a new person in the hall everyday. The gymnasium is quite dark, and I can only make out that there is one huge mob of people dancing. The details are unknown. There's a tint blue to the room, lights and glitter adding to the undersea effect.

Music beats loudly in my ears, some kind of music I sure as hell would never listen to, let alone dance to. Then again, I wouldn't dance to any kind of music. Students crowd around me as we make our way to the center of the gym, surrounded by crude dance moves and locked lips everywhere we look. Carrie unhitches from my arm and joins in with the festivities, slinging her arms around my neck and flashing me a huge smile. My eyes desperately search for Mark and Maureen as we sway back and forth, not exactly in synch with the music. At last, I spot Maureen, but she is with someone taller than Mark. His dark hair is slicked back with more grease than necessary, almost dripping from the top of his head.

"Who is Maureen dancing with?" I scream in Carrie's ear, over the blasting music, and she turns to sneak and peek at Maureen. She faces me once again and frowns.

"I don't know. I think it's James. You know that senior she likes?" I shake my head in answer to her question, finding it absurd that she thinks I know about Maureen like that. I guess Maureen _does_ seem like someone who would ditch Mark two minutes into the dance.

"What about Mark?" I refuse to let the topic go, not wanting to leave Mark alone in a corner somewhere while Carrie and I dance carelessly.

"I don't know Roger. But he probably figured this would happen. Maureen can never keep her eyes on one guy." She raises her eyebrows, and then lies her head back against my shoulder. The song turns slower, and I shut my eyes to listen. Carrie disappears from my grip, and Mark appears there. His nervous fingers dance on my back, his blond hair lightly brushing against my face. I open my eyes excitedly, expecting to see Mark gripping his arms around my neck, but to my dismay, Carrie hasn't moved an inch. Damn imagination.

"Car, I'm gonna go get a drink. I'll be right back." Her mouth opens wide in shock, probably because I haven't even danced for a full five minutes yet. I move slowly away from her, our arms still attached for as long as they can be, until I finally break free. I feel horrible for leaving her there so soon. I wouldn't be surprised if she started dancing with another guy now. I probably deserve it.

I make my way over to the table of snacks, drinks and knick-knacks. Through the crowd of teens I'm able to grasp a cup of something with my fingers. Unfortunately, it looks like some sort of blue gunk. Maybe punch. I don't really want to taste it to find out. I'd rather just put it back. Sure enough, two minutes later, I'm stealthily setting the plastic cup back down. No one seems to notice in the rush for a beverage, and I move away as quickly as I can. Walking backwards appears to be harder than I thought, and before I know it, I'm apologizing to the person behind me for ramming into them.

"Jesus, sorry. I didn't realize…" I turn around to see big eyes staring back at me. "Katie?" I ask, squinting through the darkness of the gym.

"Rogy?" She squeals, immediately jumping into my arms. "Baby I haven't seen you in ages!" Our laughs mix together, leaving the guy I assume to be her date alone and confused.

"I know. Why are you here? I thought you went somewhere in the city!" I let her drop down from my grip, and I'm finally able to see her dark green, strapless gown. Katie has always been a knock out. Even when we were little.

"Well…I did, but we just moved back here recently. I don't think I'm gonna be going here, probably some religious school. My parents rule my life like that. The only reason I'm here is because of my lovely boyfriend…" She drags the lonely guy into her arms, squeezing him tightly while he squirms in her grip. "Roger this is Tom. Tom, this is my friend Roger. We were friends when we were little." I grasp his hand firmly, trying to make out his face. He seems to have some acne, something I've never really had trouble with. His hair is blond, and he's tall. Taller than me. He almost looks like a football player. His suit fits tightly to his body, probably too small for him, but a last minute perfect fit. He doesn't seem like a guy who would be into dances. Katie probably made him come so she could attend at least one dance this year.

"Nice to meet you man." I yell over the music, which has turned back to shitty, loud fluff of rock.

"We're in the same physics class aren't we?" He comments, and I think back to school. I sit in the front, and most of the I time pay attention to the teacher, very unlike me, not really caring about anyone else who is in class with me.

"Yea sure." I scream, lying my ass off and wanting to get back to reminiscing with Katie. Katie and I met when I was only six or seven, and we were best friends right away. Our parents were friends, and we weren't really forced into playing together, it just happened. Like Carrie, I've never really been interested in dating Katie, just being her friend. In a way she is like my little sister. We would ride our bikes to the nearest park, see movies whenever I felt up to the task and pretty much do anything we could to avoid our parents. On hot summer nights we would set up a tent, lie back and watch the stars while complaining about school, parents or what we were going to do someday. She was my first female friend, and in a way it helped me connect with girls more. I think I owe Katie a lot of what I have today. Then, a couple years ago she informed me that her family was moving permanently to Long Island, leaving me alone in this shitty town. Like a twist of fate, a couple weeks later I met Carrie. From then on, Katie and I have exchanged calls every once and a while, but I haven't seen her in almost a year.

"Roger, I'm having a party at our new house tonight. After the dance. You should come. Bring some friends. You still friends with that Carrie girl?" Her auburn hair falls into her face, out of the perfect do it was up in before. She casually brushes it away, smiling gleefully at me. I can see that she had her braces removed, after two painful years with them on. Her teeth are now perfectly straight, different from the crooked and horrendous ones that used to be there. I laugh at her question, knowing how much she resents Carrie for taking her place. Little does she know that I'm now kind of dating her.

"Yes. We're kind of going out…a little. But I like someone…" I stop myself when I remember that Tom is there. I don't really feel comfortable telling things to Katie when Tom is hovering around her. I wonder if he's one of those boyfriends who gets in the way.

"Oh. Well congrats on the girlfriend. Is she here?" Katie elbows Tom in the stomach for some reason, probably groping, before breaking from his grip and looking around for Carrie.

"Yea she's here. We came with another couple too. I was actually looking for one of them. I don't know where he went." I take one quick glance around, skimming the crowd for Mark's blond hair and glasses, but I'm still unable to spot him. Maybe he's in the bathroom. That's where I would be if I wanted to avoid all of this.

"I hope you find him sweetie. Well…are you gonna come to the party?" Her eyes light up as she grasps my hands in her, the bracelets around her wrist clanking lightly together.

"Yea sure. Why not? I'd like to see your new house. And I'm sure Carrie will have fun. Is it okay if our friends come too?" I try to slip Mark into the plans, hoping that she will allow strangers to occupy her new house.

"Yea, anyone you want baby. As long as there's no sex on my bed. Or any other bed for that matter. Can you contain yourself?" She giggles, and my mind snaps to Mark. I really need to find him. I'm starting to get antsy.

"I think so. But I can't make any promises." In the middle of our conversation Tom leaves, probably sick of Katie shoving him away and refusing his advances to fuck on the dance floor. I take the opportunity to talk to her about something I haven't been able to mention to anyone else. I have a feeling she could help me more than anyone. "Kate?" I pull her to the side of the gym, leaning against the black concrete wall.

"Mhmm?" She mumbles, and I can tell she's still steaming with anger from her boyfriend's absence.

"Could I ask you something? Something…private?" My heart begins to beat faster, pounding almost outside of my chest. I can't believe I'm about to actually ask someone this. But missing Mark right now has really got me confused.

"Anything." Her green eyes smile back at me, and I take a deep breath.

"What would you do…if you think you liked one of your friends…but they are sort of off limits. I mean, it wouldn't be a regular relationship. Plus…you have a boyfriend, and so does he. I mean…" I bury my face in my hands, frustrated and wanting to just spill out the entire truth. "Katie. I like someone. But I don't know if it would work. I don't want to wreck what I have with Carrie, and…I've never felt this way about…someone like him…someone like _this_ before." My lips clasp tightly together, as Katie's eyes open widely. A huge smile spreads across her face quickly, and a blush comes over mine. I hope to God she doesn't squeal loud enough to draw attention to herself.

"Rogy! Aww…sweetheart. You like a guy? That is so ado…" I hastily cover her mouth with my hand and continue.

"Don't do that. I'm serious. I don't know if I should do something about it. I mean we've already…kissed but…" She's able to pry her way out of my cover, excitedly jumping up and down giddily.

"You kissed him? Roger! That is so cute! Do it! Go for it!" She grasps onto my shoulders, shaking me lightly to convince me. Somehow I knew this would happen. She's not seeing the seriousness of the situation.

"I can't. What about Carrie?"

"Honey. Do you really think that you and Carrie are that seriously in love that she would be mad about this whole thing? If she really does love you like a friend, she will understand." Her smile is so understanding and loving. Even though we haven't seen each other and forever, I feel like she never left. And maybe she's right. If Carrie really cares for me, she would want me to be happy. Plus she never wants to call me her boyfriend. Are we really even dating?

"You're right. I mean I never truly asked her out in the first place. We are more friends than we are dating." My mind swims with desperate thoughts of Mark. I could do so many things right now if I just knew where he scurried off to. I don't blame him I guess…Maureen didn't leave me very happy either with her whorish display.

"I know I am!" Katie squeals, barely able to control herself with glee.

"I…thank you. I have to go find Mark." I say, but before I can leave, she pulls me back to her.

"Wait. The party. Meet me back here at the end of the dance and I'll give you directions. Kay?"

"All right. Thank you Kate." I leave her with one last smile before I begin to search the gym one final time. Then I remember. The bathroom. My feet almost run themselves out of the doors to the gymnasium and out to the men's bathroom. I stop at the entrance, for some odd reason my stomach has just filled with a million butterflies. I can't believe I'm actually going to do something about this. This something that has been filling my head for the past month and a half. I shut my eyes to ready myself, and push harshly against the wooden door.

There Mark sits, on the porcelain countertop, staring blankly at his dress shoes. His legs dangle off the side, kicking casually back and forth with the ticking of the clock against the wall. There is only one other kid in there with us, washing his hands slowly, and I wait for him to leave before approaching Mark. I jump up onto the counter next to him, and at last he notices I'm here.

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Notes: Jesus! That took a fricken long time to write. I am sooo sorry for the long wait for this chapter. But I hope you liked Katie, and yes. I hope everything is good. Review please and make me a happy camper! I'm hoping to update again by Wednesday because I was so evil to you guys. I just kind of fell behind. Don't hate me. XD Thanks!


	8. Right

A/N: Ahh I was so happy with that last chapter. It's amazing. I was just so happy to make Roger realize that he has to stop ignoring his love for Mark. So yes. And thank you guys so much for the reviews! You're all so awesome! Now I get to start writing the stuff I love. And the love for Katie was very strong too. Heehee…But don't forget your love for Carrie. You know you love her! Don't deny it. I certainly do. :-D Okay, writing now. Yea…don't hate me, but I kind of mention another OC in this chapter. She won't be that big of a deal, but I have to even out the number of friends Mark and Roger have. XD

Disclaimer: S'all mine. Pff…yea right. I wish. It's Jonathan Larson. Quit making me say it. XD

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Mark's POV

"Marky is it okay if I dance with James?" Maureen asks me, and I glance between her and the senior before nodding slowly.

"I guess." My voice shakes slightly, afraid that James might kick my ass if I refused. It's only been about three minutes since we arrived, and I haven't even danced for a second. I suppose I don't really care, seeing as I expected this, and I hate to dance. I look ahead to see Roger and Carrie pressed against each other, swaying lightly to the music and sigh. He's forgotten about me.

I head to the drink counter, but the mob makes me back away. I don't think I care that much about a beverage. Maybe I'll just sit in the bathroom for the rest of the dance, and come out when it's over. What a fun night this will be.

When I finally do get to the bathroom, I jump up onto the corner of the counter, leaning my head back onto the freezing blue wall and shut my eyes. There are barely any people in here. Hopefully no one will notice that I'm not waiting for anyone, but instead just spending my dance in the men's bathroom while my date grinds against a senior. It was sort of stupid of me to believe that Maureen actually likes me like that. We have always been friends, I don't know why I'd want to screw that up now. If only Roger and Carrie weren't dating.

The clock ticks by slowly, but when I finally open my eyes I see that almost ten minutes has gone by. It figures that Maureen totally forgot about me. Ten minutes is a long time to be dancing with someone who isn't even your date. Maybe I'll go out and try to find Roger. I don't know what I'd do if I found him. Drag him to the bathroom to talk? He probably wants to dance with Carrie anyways. I slide forward, using my hands to push my body, and let my legs fall off of the counter. They dangle, every once and a while hitting the wall under the sinks. I try to beat in rhythm with the clock, but become very unsuccessful. I don't have musical skills like Roger does. Damn it. I can never seem to get Roger out of my head for more than a minute.

"Hey." I hear a voice say, and I jump slightly at it. I turn my head to see Roger's green eyes staring back at me, smiling kindly and opened wide.

"Jesus. Hi." I pull my legs into my body, resting my feet on the counter in front of me. I'm curled up in a ball now, trying to inch my way away from Roger. Being near him will make things unbearable.

"Sorry. Did I scare you?" He wipes his blond hair out of his face, and I shake my head.

"Nah. I just…didn't see you."

"Oh. Kay." I hear him silently sigh, and his fingers nervously dance on the counter next to his legs. I wonder why he's so jittery talking to me. Usually I'm the one flipping out.

"Why aren't you out there dancing with Carrie?" I raise my eyebrows, and gaze sweetly at him. His palm flips face up, almost asking for something to hold onto. I see beads of sweat on it, and then notice them on his forehead also. The light shines directly onto his lightly tanned skin, but they're definitely not warm enough to make him perspire.

"I got bored…plus I saw Maureen dancing with another guy, and I wanted to come see if you were okay." A smile flushes my lips, and I know a blush appears also. My fingers lightly touch my face, almost to try and stop the red from spreading, and Roger notices me. He blinks slowly, taking in the figure and shape of my face with his wandering eyes.

"I'm…fine. I just didn't want to have to watch her dance with James so I came in here." I nod to make my point more believable. Even though I'm not lying. I'm so fucken nervous around him. I have no clue why. We're friends, I should feel comfortable. Maybe that's the problem. I feel so comfortable around him, that is scares me.

"Good. Well…not really. Maureen is a bitch. I mean, why doesn't she want to dance with you?" I bug my eyes out at his question. Yea, like someone would actually want to dance with _me._ I'm surprised I even got asked to this stupid thing. Girls don't exactly crowd me. Neither do guys. I'm just not that popular. I do have a few select friends, and I don't get made fun of, but I don't stand out in anyone's eyes. Most of my friends are Maureen's friends who also find her annoying. Like Erin. Erin and I met about two months ago, and she is probably the only one who I can talk to without being overruled with jabber. There's no doubt that Maureen is my best friend, but sometimes I just need someone to hang out with who doesn't annoy the shit out of me. Erin is always there for me, open to talk about anything or anyone. I haven't spoken to her about this whole Roger thing, but I have a feeling she would tell me to go for it.

"Maybe cause I have no sense of music or rhythm. I can't really dance all that well…" I laugh, and Roger looks over at the door. Currently there's no one with us in the bathroom, but I can only assume that more people will come. He looks lost in a thought, and soon after my comment he jumps off the counter.

"I could teach you." He looks me in the eyes, and reaches out his hand for me to take. My mouth opens, but no words come out. Is he fucking out of his mind? Dance…with him? That would no doubt drive me insane. Standing against Roger, moving against Roger, holding Roger's hand…it's too much.

"Uhh…I don't think so." My voice squeaks when it finally comes out, and I feel my face heating up quickly. He shrugs his shoulders and scoffs.

"Oh come on. Just do it. Hurry, while no one is here." He demands, and I reluctantly join him on the floor. He grasps my hand in his, and I feel the moisture and heat wrap around my skin. I let out a sharp sigh, and he pulls my body closer into his.

"What are you doing?" I ask, flustered by the feel of his chest rising and falling against mine. He smiles, literally inches away from my own face and grips my hand tighter in his.

"I'm teaching you how I dance with Carrie."

"S…slow dancing?" I mutter, stumbling over my words as I feel his hips lightly and unintentionally grind against mine.

"Yea. Is that okay?" He backs up only an inch or two, just to make sure that I am able to pull away anytime I want. There's no way I'm moving now.

"I guess. Yea, it's fine." He returns to his original position, and picks up my hand away from my thigh, placing it gently on his hip. Our hands untangle, and he lets mine slowly find its place on his free hip. We begin moving unhurriedly to the music blasting from the gym, and I find my feet actually stepping the correct beat. I guess slow dancing isn't that hard.

"See? It's not that hard. You pretty much just stand there and sway. No big deal…you're…pretty…good actually…" His breathing becomes heavier as he stares hazily into my eyes, unable to break the contact and concentrate on what I'm doing with my feet.

"Mhm…" I gulp down air, holding myself back from doing anything stupid. Like kissing him again.

"Mark…I…" He stutters, and I feel his hand rest tenderly on the side of my arm. His fingers grip tightly, while his face moves closer and closer to mine.

"What?"

"I want to kiss you." His body is now flush against mine, knowing that I want it too. My eyes shut, readying myself for something I've wanted forever. His soft, thin lips touch mine lightly, covering my vulnerable and clenched mouth hesitantly but lovingly. His hands snap to cup my cheeks as soon as I accept his kiss, and I feel him sigh against my lips. The absence of his lips comes too soon, after only a short and previewed kiss.

"What are you doing?" I ask, as soon as I am coherent, and he smiles.

"I didn't know if it was all right…"

"Just…kiss me again." I beg, and he presses his mouth against mine at last. My hands pull him tighter towards me, using his hips as control of his body. Suddenly I realize that his fingers are lightly playing with my hair, brushing pieces back and forth while his tongue asks for permission inside my mouth. I spread my lips apart to let it in, and as soon as our smooth taste buds touch, I'm shoved backwards into the wall. My arms wrap around his waist as his tongue swirls through my mouth, exploring every single inch of it. This feels so right, so good. I don't know why we haven't done it more. His hands on me is the best feeling I've ever felt.

The door slams open, and I push Roger roughly away from me, for some reason worrying that it's Maureen. Then I remember that this is the _men's_ room. He throws me a confused and hurt look at first, then I pull him along by his hand to the stall next to us. I press my back against the wall, after tightly shutting the door, almost asking him to come kiss me. He reads my mind, and before I know it, his tongue is back, resting against mine. His hands run up and down the side of my body, the skin of his fingers brushing up my shirt every few seconds, trying to gain entrance. But we can't take it that far. When we both need to breathe, he breaks away first, and leans against the wall next to me. I can barely catch my breath to speak.

"We should probably get outta here. Someone's gonna see two pairs of feet in the stall." I mutter, and Roger rolls his eyes at me.

"Stop worrying so much. No one will see us." He takes my hand gently in his, kissing my palm and then entwining our fingers together.

"All right." I accept it, not wanting to really leave, but still afraid that we will get caught. I straighten my black tie once again, after it was messed up by Roger's excitement, and let out a huge sigh. "So…what about Carrie?" I try to avoid eye contact, not wanting to get rejected a second time, but still curious about why he kissed me.

"I've decided that she will understand. It's driving me crazy being around you and not being able to do anything about it."

"Me too. So…does this mean that we're…like…" I clear my throat and grasp tightly onto my dress pants. I've never had to ask a girl out before, or a guy for that matter. It makes me so nervous and anxious, but I have a feeling that it will be worth it if I ask just this once.

"A thing? Together?" He finishes my sentence, and I breathe a huge sigh of relief.

"Yea."

"If you want to be. I know I do."

"Yea. Me too." He kisses my temple and pulls me into his arms, letting me lean my head softly against his shoulder. I have a boyfriend. Something I really never thought I'd have. But it seems right. Only with Roger.

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Notes: Ahhh…nice. Okay, that was quite the quick update don't ya think? I hope you're happy with this chapter, and now I'm off the hook for a while with updates. Review! Thanks a lot!


	9. Lonely Without You

A/N: Woah, I got a lot of reviews during those last two chapters. I plan on this chapter being uber long, and uber good. But uberly full of drama. And now, I'm going to stop using the word uber. I think you can all thank Rexmanningdays for the entire plot of this chapter, because she pretty much walked me through what to do with it. Thanks Rexmanningdays! Now to the writing!

Disclaimer: Jonathan Larson.

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Roger's POV

"Come on. We should go back out there." He whispers in my ear, after what seems like an hour of pure staring. Staring into his pale blue eyes and adorable smile. I could stay here all day long if I didn't have Carrie out there waiting for me. Reluctantly, I follow him out of the stall, but then Katie pops into my mind.

"Wait, Mark." I stop him by the sinks, wrapping my arms softly around his waist. It feels so good to be able to do this. I don't have to hold back. "Do you think you'd want to come to a party with me? My friend Katie is having one at her new house. She just moved back. We were friends when we were younger." His eyes connect again with mine, and he blushes lightly.

"You want _me_ to come to a party?" His voice cracks halfway through, and a wide smile spreads across my face. He's just so damn cute.

"Yes. I want _you_ to come to a party. I'd be lonely without you. It will be fun. Please?" I mope, pushing out my bottom lip and gripping my hands tighter to his hips. He rolls his eyes and buries his face onto my shoulder.

"All right." He whines, but after I lean in to capture him in a quick kiss, he stops complaining.

"Oh. One more thing. Katie knows." My eyes shut in fear, afraid of Mark's reaction. I don't know if he wanted anyone to know. Especially since we got together literally minutes ago.

"Knows…about us? How the hell did that happen?" His voice is hostile, and he looks to me for an explanation. I don't know if I really want to continue. Who knows if he'll get mad, or be all right with it.

"Yea. I asked her advice about what to do, and she said to go for it. She's like my oldest friend in the world Mark. She's totally fine with it." My hand is now pressed against the bathroom door, ready to leave at any moment, and willing Mark to follow me. I hold out my free hand for him to take, which he does, and we depart from my now favorite bathroom in the school.

Outside, there are quite a lot of people, but nothing compared to how many are in the gym. I'm actually dreading returning to the huge, sweaty mob of dancers. A place where I can't kiss Mark, I can't embrace him, I can't touch him, I can't even flirt with him. I turn around to see Mark blushing, and surprisingly, he hasn't let go of my hand yet. I try to separate our bodies to make it look like I'm dragging him somewhere, until I spot Katie headed for the women's room.

"Katie. Hi." I say bluntly, stopping her with a hand to her shoulder. Her green dress sways when she abruptly stops, and she smiles pleasantly.

"Hi, Rogy. Whose this?" She asks quickly, pointing to Mark. I smile at him, gently pulling him closer to Katie and I. "Is it him?" She squeals before I can open my mouth to speak. I look over to Mark, a red tint covering his cheeks, and nod. "Ahh! Oh my God! He's so cuuuute!" She giggles, hastily embracing the confused Mark and squeezing as tightly as she can. I see him wriggle in her grip, his face as red as a cherry. I grasp his hand in mine again, wanting so badly to bring it to my lips, but refraining for the time being.

"Katie, this is my Mark. Mark, this is my Katie." I introduce them as soon as Katie loosens her embrace on Mark, allowing him to take a breath in, and shrug his body back into me, most likely trying to distance himself from Katie. "It's okay Mark. Katie's just excited to meet you. She's not scary I promise." I whisper in his ear, touching my lips lightly to the edge of it, making myself insane. I want to turn him around and kiss him full on, something that would probably be stupid right now.

"I'm not scary! I just think you two are so…adooooorable!" She grasps Mark again, this time kissing him on the cheek, and a small spark of jealousy burns through my body. What the fuck? People can't even touch Mark without me being jealous? I shake it off and laugh at Katie's excitement.

"Well…thanks." Mark clears his throat, wiping lipstick off of his cheek and turning to face me. "Are we going back in there?" He looks sadly up at me, hoping I will say that we can go home and make out, but I already promised Katie we'd come to her party.

"Guys. Fuck this dance. Tom's already ditched me for some whore. I say we get the party started early. What do you say?" She raises her eyebrows, smirking seductively and then leaning over to Mark. "You…are definitely invited." A smile spreads across her lips, and I pull Mark against my body. I don't care if people see us now. I can't take it anymore. He shrinks back into my arms, and Katie covers her mouth with her hands, giggling childishly into them. "Guys…you're gonna make me cry. You're so…"

"Cute. I know Katie. Let's get the fuck out of here please." I stop her, prompting Mark to shake violently with laughter.

"What about Maureen and Carrie?" He asks, and I sigh. Shit. I forgot about them.

"Uh…yea I guess they don't have rides. Is it okay if they ride with us Kate?" I squeeze Mark before releasing him from my arms and glancing into the gym. I see Carrie standing against the wall, looking down at her feet. I close my eyes and sigh. Now I feel absolutely horrible for just leaving her there. Suddenly, I see a guy come and hand her a cup. She was waiting for a guy? My moment of guilt is immediately regretted, and I rush into the gym to meet up with her, leaving Mark and Katie behind.

"It's fine Roger! Roger?" Katie calls after me, but I'm already through the gym doors by the time I hear her. Carrie sees me coming, and slowly backs away from the tall dark stranger she is making conversation with.

"Hey." I say casually, trying to make it seem like there isn't a guy standing next to me.

"Hi. Where did you run off to?" Her smile is false, and she gives the cup in her hand to the tall guy, before pulling me over to the side of the gym.

"Sorry. I went to look for Mark. I found him though. And Katie. She's having a party and invited you. You up for it?" She takes in all that I've just said and lets out a huge breath.

"Katie's back." She states disappointingly, probably thinking the girl that she once took over for will replace her. "I guess we can go. Do you really want to go?" She furrows her brow at me, and I smirk at her jealousy.

"Yes. I really want to go. Maureen can come, Car. You'll be fine. You don't have to make any kind of contact with Katie at all if you don't want to." I grasp her hands in mine, looking deeply into her eyes. Just so she'll let me have this time with Mark. Time when I won't have to pretend. I know that might happen a lot now that I'm with him. The pretending will never stop.

"It's not that I don't want to be around Katie, I'd just rather go home and watch a movie with you or something." A pout emerges on her lips, and I close my eyes in guilt. I can't regret being with Mark. He makes me happier than I thought I could ever be. But hurting Carrie seems impossible. I will just have to tell her sooner than I thought. "I guess a party would be fun. Alcohol?" She asks, prompting me to laugh and pull her into a hug.

"Of course. It's Katie remember?" Our laughs mix and I drag her out into the lobby, where Mark and Katie stand, waiting for us. I shoot Mark a look of disappointment when he sees me with Carrie in my grip. I hope he knows that I want him there. I hope he knows I want to grab his hand. I hope he knows that it's all just an act with Carrie. She's one of my best friends, but I hope our "dating" phase will end well.

"Guys! I'm coming hold on!" I hear Maureen yell behind us, before swooping Carrie away from me and hitching their arms firmly together. I take the opportunity to scoot forward, next to Mark, and a huge smile appears on his face the second he notices.

Everyone piles tightly in my car, Mark and I in the front seat, with the girls in the back. Carrie and Maureen are embedded in their usual unintelligent conversations while Katie sits, arms crossed, sulking in the back. I have no idea why she chose to sit with them; maybe she thought Mark would be there. But there's no way I'm missing an opportunity to be near Mark. The long bench of my car seat makes for an interesting situation, as the girls in the back seat cannot see anything I'm doing with my hands. However, with my stupidity, I reach my arm over Mark's shoulders, noticing some extra lipstick on his cheek.

"You missed some." I whisper, and he smiles as I carefully smudge it away.

"Thanks." He runs his fingers over the spot I touched, allowing them to connect with mine, but so it's not noticeable. Once his hand returns to his lap, mine wanders around to the back of his neck, playing with the messy and pointed blond hair. His head lightly rolls backwards, enjoying the feel of my massaging touch, when Katie slings her body forward and pushes my hand harshly away.

"Guys. Be careful. You want them finding out like that?" She whispers gently to us, and I nod in agreement. I guess I really don't want them finding out like that. I'm glad we have Katie to watch us. If it weren't for her, Mark and I would be making out in front of Carrie right now.

"So, I figured that cheating is really something that's biological. I don't think I should deny a need I'm born with." Maureen states, ending her long ramble, and I hear a very audible and obvious scoff come from Katie. Seconds later, she's climbing over the seat, next to Mark, trying desperately to distance herself from Maureen and Carrie. Mark scoots closer to me, almost against the side of my arm, and I smile at Katie. Thank God.

I grab Mark's hand first chance I get, trying my hardest to focus my attention on the road as well. I can't forget that I am driving people somewhere, not just sitting next to Mark. His fingers lightly squeeze mine, as his free hand runs slowly up and down my thigh. Shivers make their way all over my body, covering every inch and rendering me unable to focus on anything other but Mark's touch. Shit. Why when I'm driving? I clear my throat to send him a signal to stop, or at least lay off a little bit, and he leans over slightly to whisper in my ear.

"Sorry. I just can't keep my hands off of you." His hot breath reigns over my cold skin, and I turn towards him, my open mouth hungry for a kiss, something I can't have. Something about that one statement doesn't sound like Mark. It's too secure, too confident. I hope he's like this more often when we are touching each other. Instantly, I feel Mark shrug back into me, and realize that Katie has just struck his arm rather hard.

"I said stop it." Her eyes narrow at us, and I bite my lip to repress a laugh. Mark bugs his eyes out at me, surprised that Katie is being so forceful, and I smile and shake our entwined hands lightly.

"She's just jealous." I whisper, and he giggles quietly.

"It's up here." Katie says loudly, making sure I hear her while pointing towards a light blue house on a hill. I see a few other cars filling the driveway, parked in awkward angles and blocking traffic in some areas. The house is humongous, topped off with a deck, a third story, and a stretched out yard. I can't believe I'm friends with someone this rich. On second thought, I always remember Katie's family spending loads on her. I turn into the line of parked cars, swerving to fit my car any possible way I can, without hitting anything. Mark cringes when I stop abruptly, suddenly jerking everyone forward from the speed. Maureen giggles in the back, and I glance over my shoulder to see Carrie with a huge line of eyeliner drawn down her face. Her mouth rests wide open, before shooting Maureen a look of shock and anger. Maureen covers her mouth with her hand then proceeds to climb carefully out of the car.

"Sorry Car. That's what you get for trying to fix your make up while I'm driving." I say, clearing my throat and reluctantly letting go of Mark's hand. I open my door to exit, flashing him a smile to make up. When my body straightens out, Carrie immediately greets me, tangling our fingers together. Mark looks back at us, disappointed, and decides to catch up with Katie. Maureen joins our chain, hitching elbows with Carrie once again and wiping away the excess black smudge on Carrie's cheek.

The porch to Katie's house is well lit, a perfect combination of moonlight and light bulbs decked up in detailed sconces. There are two front doors, one a glass sheet and one a wooden carved, antique looking layer. Katie's heels click lightly on the concrete as she jams her key in the door, only to discover it's already unlocked. A tall guy comes to meet her, someone I can only assume to be Tom, embracing her awkwardly and forcefully. She glances back at me to roll her eyes, and I figure that Tom is drunk. I guess someone got the party started earlier than us. After a brief walk, we arrive beside her, now finally able to hear what they're saying.

"I didn't give you a key!" Katie's voice has risen, as she points her rigid key harshly at Tom, almost threatening to stab him with it.

"I know, but…it…well…are you coming to the party or not, Katie honey?" Tom tries to suck up, his drunken slurred speech becoming light and feathery.

"Yes, but I'm not talking to you. And don't you even think of feeling me up again." A loud laugh bursts out of my mouth uncontrollably, and Carrie grips my hand tightly to tell me to refrain. However, I catch Katie laughing too as we enter her house, and lightly knock shoulders with Carrie.

A strong odor of cinnamon soap and incense hits me when I walk through the door, making my lips twinge with a light smile. Katie's family still hasn't changed. This smell is so familiar. It reminds me of summer, spending night after night at her house, locked upstairs in her room playing cards and talking.

"You guys can throw your coats on the bed in the room in there." She points to a small bedroom, with one lone bed in the middle and an attached bathroom. "If you want food, raid the fridge. I'm gonna throw on some music. There's stuff to drink in the fridge downstairs." She smiles, and I know that she's talking about alcohol. Carrie drags me into the other room, what looks like a high-tech kitchen, complete with a mini island in the middle of it. I skim my fingers over the surface to check for liquid remains or anything sticky, then jump up to sit on top of it. Carrie leans her head against my chest, keeping her feet steady and flat on the ground and allowing her hands to slide gracefully up and down on my thigh. I can tell she's tired. She's tired of Katie, she's tired of being dragged places, and she's tired of no more time with me.

"Do you want something to drink?" I lift her chin up with my finger, and she sadly nods. I look around the room for Mark, and slide my body down off the table. He's nowhere to be seen. Maureen must have taken him somewhere without me noticing. I can't believe I let him out of my sight for two seconds and he disappears. I head to the basement of Katie's house, colder air brushing against my clothed skin, and grasp the handle of the fridge. Before I'm able to open it, I spot shot glasses out of the corner of my eye.

Once I'm back upstairs, Mark, Maureen and Katie have all gathered around the seat on the island I was just occupying. Mark smirks when he sees me coming, and I wonder if he had been looking for me too. To my delight, he's sitting where I once was, and I'm able to squeeze my body in the space between him and Katie. His hand snakes carefully around my body, and presses flat down on the counter behind me. I feel his arm rub gently against my side, but refuse to look at him in fear that I might need a kiss. Instead, I lie down the shot glasses, along with the bottle of brandy I retrieved from the basement.

"Shot games!" Maureen squeals, and everyone simultaneously laughs.

"Roger, I am not doing shots. I don't want to get drunk. You know how sick I get." Carrie says, leaning against my body again, prompting Mark to let out a fairly audible grunt. I want to grab his hand, to let him know that all I'm thinking about is him, but I can't. Not yet. Not in front of everyone. Not in front of Carrie.

"You don't have to do any. Just…watch." I smile and purposely collide my hanging leg with Mark's. My fingers roughly twist the cap off of the brandy, and I pour the liquid into five tiny glasses.

"Roger! I told you I'm not drink…"

"Who said it was for you! I want two…" I reach down to grab my drink, when Carrie swipes it out of my hand, readying herself for the game. I roll my eyes and think about Carrie drunk. Last time I saw her drunk was when she got a D on her English paper. She was a mess, vomiting all over the place and screaming at everyone. I can't wait.

"All right…" Maureen speaks up, jumping at the chance to make people drunk with whatever stupid game she has in mind. "…I get the first one. Whenever a girl with a flowery dress walks by…we take a drink." Everyone grunts at Maureen's suggestion, as none of us are fond of playing so kindly. I think we all had something more insulting in mind.

"I was thinking like…whenever one of the football players makes a homoerotic gesture." Katie smirks, cracking Mark and I up but not the girls. I can tell they aren't loving the fact that she's back in town.

"Or comment." Mark adds, and I casually rub his side with my elbow in a laugh. He seems like he's having fun, something that makes me beam with joy.

"What football players?" Carrie asks, looking around the room for some sign of a monster athlete. Katie downs her shot, slamming the glass between her and I on the counter and coughing lightly.

"My boyfriend is a football player, so he probably has a bunch of his macho buddies here. Even though it's my house and I told him not to invite his friends. Whatever. He never listens to me anyways." Katie goes off on a tangent about the annoying facts about Tom while I drown out all the background noise to focus on what's happening next to me. For the past few minutes, I've noticed Mark's presence creeping closer and closer to me. Every time the girls' attention is re-focused, he takes the opportunity to scoot his body to the point where we are almost touching. Our thighs are now flush together, his palms resting against his leg while the edges of his fingers caress mine through the fabric of my jeans. Now I need to get drunk.

Two hours later 

"No Maureen!" I hear Mark squeal for about the billionth time.

"Please Marky! It would be so much fun! Plus almost everyone is gone anyways. Or…passed out. It could only be…like…us five and…T…"

"No Maureen. I am _not_ playing spin the bottle with you." His voice is now serious, with a twinge of haze to his speech. After two hours of downing shots I don't blame him for being drunk and slightly incoherent. We had continued on with our little game for the entire time, first taking Katie's homoerotic suggestion after her boyfriend was one of the victims, then moving on to other things. My idea, which I was rather proud of at the time until it became very common and taxing, was to drink whenever a slutty girl walked past. This provoked many arguments between Katie and Carrie about the whorish factors of each teenage girl at the party. After a while, I got tired of the games, and drank whenever I felt like it. This caused my now tiredly drunken state. Luckily, I can handle alcohol better than most people at this party. Those people who lie passed out on the ground, staining their dresses and tuxes with saliva, food and punch.

"I'll play." Katie says, getting up from her leather chair and standing next to Mark. I soon rise up after her, a huge smile portrayed on my face.

"Me too." My eyes focus on Mark intensely, trying to mentally convince him to play. This might give us an excuse to kiss in front of everyone. Mark holds back a smile, avoiding my eyes and blushing.

"Fine. I'll play. But five people isn't enough." He gives in, and Katie and I immediately seat ourselves in the shape of a developing circle.

"Tom will play. And James." Maureen tells him, grasping his arm to make him join us on the floor. Carrie warily gets up off of her chair to sit down, wobbling slightly before finally making it. Maureen, Mark, Carrie, Katie, myself, Tom, and James all sit in a crooked orb, as Maureen places a glass bottle in the middle. It looks like it once contained some sort of alcohol, probably that she just finished chugging minutes ago. I think it's safe to say that Maureen is the most hammered one here.

"How is this gonna work? There are more guys than girls. What if guys get guys or girls get girls?" Tom asks, rubbing his tired eyes and taking a sip from his vodka. Katie refuses to look at him, but talks anyway.

"Don't be so narrow-minded. If you land on a guy, you kiss a guy. If you land on a girl, you kiss a girl. Got it?" Her words bite, and I can tell that shots didn't help her anger towards her boyfriend. Tom just nods along, but I see the fear in his eyes of having to kiss another guy. That's a fear I definitely don't share.

"Me first!" Maureen screams, and quickly reaches out to spin the long, narrow shaped bottle. It circles us a few times before promptly landing on James, sending Maureen into a fit of giggles. She crawls across the floor to meet his lips, her tongue visibly trying to gain entrance to his mouth but being firmly denied. Mark looks hurt as he watches her lock lips with the senior, but I send him a smile and he shyly returns it.

"Woo!" Carrie yells, raising her hands up to the ceiling, before taking another swig of her drink. Like she needs more. James goes next, followed by Katie. The bottle lands on me, and Katie leans over to lightly peck our lips together. I see Mark's face turn a shade of light red, and now it's my turn. I spin the bottle violently, as I sit on my knees in anticipation. _Please Mark. Please Mark. Please. Pleeeeeease!_ It finally stops at Carrie, and I close my eyes only briefly in anger. A huge smile spreads over Carrie's lips, and she makes her way over to my place. I reach over to her face, colliding our mouths gently and hastily, then breaking away while her lips are still puckered. Her eyes snap open after our two-second kiss, and she furrows her brow in disappointment and angst. I look down at the ground instead of her, ashamed of how I just blew that off. Now she might get the message.

Carrie spins the bottle next, triggering a crazy mood when it lands on Maureen. Tom howls when they kiss hotly on the mouth, Maureen sucking lightly on Carrie's bottom lip and cupping her cheek with her hand. They break with blushes, as James soon joins in with the cheering. I clap as an effort, but make eye contact with Mark the whole time. Maureen goes again, this time with the bottle choosing Mark. Mark sighs after finally being included, but when Maureen sits still, he looks less than pleased. He's forced to squirm over to her seat, attempting to capture her lips with a bit of passion, but Maureen's eyes stay wide open the entire time, skimming the room. I don't think I've ever wanted to scream at Maureen more than right now.

"Thanks Mo." Mark sarcastically mumbles as he returns to his place, grasping the bottle between his fingers. I see him take a breath in before spinning it, and my heart pounds roughly against my chest. Katie looks over at me with a smile, and I blush madly.

"Uch." James scoffs, and I glance angrily over at him, before finally noticing where the bottle has landed. It points awkwardly towards me. It takes all my energy not to laugh, smile or make any sort of sign of how incredibly overjoyed I am in this moment. The whole circle cheers after Mark and I make no movement, probably both afraid that someone might suspect something.

"Come on guys. Kiss!" Katie yells, and Mark begins to move across the circle. I sit up on my knees, pressing my hands down onto the blue carpet and leaning my face forward. Mark's lips curve into a smile, and my heart feels about to burst out of my body. The last thing I see is Mark's eyes close before mine join him, and our mouths lightly touch.

Our speed begins slowly, lips moving against each other in a rhythm and skin on skin becoming familiar. I taste brandy frosted over the inside of his mouth as my teeth gently feel his bottom lip. I don't know if we should break now, but I have a feeling I would really regret it. Apparently so would he. His arms wrap around my neck firmly, pulling my mouth closer to his, and I allow his tongue to slip in. I feel his hot breath on the side of my face, and his hands on the back of my neck. Every other sound in the room has now disappeared. The only thing that exists to me right now is Mark's body. My fingers grip to his neck, massaging the muscles near his throat. My tongue wraps around his, saliva rasping, our labored gasps becoming too much for me to take. I want to throw him down on the ground right now, pushing his hands over his head. I feel him begin to pull away, but swirl my tongue and carefully grasp his hip before allowing him to break our lips apart. His nose rubs against mine, and I take a deep breath inwards, sighing loudly and moving away slowly. When I open my eyes, I see everyone with their mouths hanging wide open.

"Holy…shit." Katie whispers, smiling intensely and giddily at our ardent display. "I don't think anyone can top that." She giggles, but Carrie sits still. She stares at Mark with a blank look on her face, her glass pressed to her lips, but she never takes a sip. Instead, she places it down on the ground, and sighs.

"Roger. Go." She says hazily, and I nod before spinning the bottle once again. I think I let myself get carried away.

After a couple more turns everyone got tired of making out with the same people, and we all began a tired and slightly incoherent conversation. Every once and a while Carrie would get up to go to the bathroom, where vomiting noises would be heard soon after. She always came back with a smile on her face however, telling me that she was still drunk. Mark had sneakily moved next to me, after everyone was distracted with Tom passing out in the middle of a sentence. I love watching Mark sip his drink, liquid still lining his thin lips, before he gently licks it away. About an hour after our game ended, I begin to feel anxious. Feeling Mark next to me has become too much. Who knows if it's the alcohol, my sex drive or testosterone. I just need Mark.

"Come on." I whisper in his ear, scanning the room to make sure nobody is looking. At the moment, the group of friends is focusing on another shot game between Maureen and James. I guess it should be called "whoever passes out first loses." I grasp Mark's hand in mine, pulling him down the hall, and into some mysterious room. We are finally free of everyone.

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Notes: Sorry for the sort of cliffhanger, but the next chapter is going to be interesting! Hope you liked this half of the party. Long chapter…tell me what you think! Thanks guys!


	10. Guilt Ridden

A/N: Yea, that was a pretty evil cliffhanger, but now everything is better, and I have someone reading over my shoulder to tell me when things aren't hot enough. So let's hope you enjoy this one. XD

Disclaimer: Jonathan Larson's. Haven't I said it enough?

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Mark's POV

Roger's fingers slip in between mine, clammy and moist, but I don't mind. He drags me into a room, flipping on the light rather quickly to discover a pink draped bed staring back at us.

"This must be Katie's room." He speculates, pulling me in further before capturing my mouth. I jump slightly from the surprise, but soon find myself sinking into his touch. Unfortunately, he breaks away seconds later. "I've wanted you all night." He whispers in my ear, holding me against his body tightly and breathing heavily. My mouth hangs wide open, hungry for any kind of contact, but he refuses to kiss me again.

"Me too…" I sigh, trying desperately to reach his lips, when he completely separates us and sits down on top of the cotton candy sheets.

"Are you drunk?" He asks, furrowing his brow and smiling incoherently in my direction.

"Yea." I answer bluntly, after a few too many drinks at the party. Not to mention how much I chugged down after Maureen and Carrie witnessed Roger and I get a little too far into a game of spin the bottle.

"Do you still want to do this?" His eyes connect deeply with mine, and I know I have to think right now. But all I can think about is pouncing on Roger, colliding with his lips, kissing him as hard as I can. Obviously I'm not drunk enough for my sex drive to fade.

"Yea." I repeat, and a smile develops on his moist lips.

"Good. I don't know what I'd do if you had said no." He chuckles, reaching out for my hand. I grasp it tightly, and allow him to pull me onto the bed. "Am I taking advantage of you?" He asks before plunging his tongue into my mouth, before I violently shake my head in an answer. I can taste the alcohol on his tongue, but I can tell that he's not really all that drunk. If he were I have a feeling he would be feeling me up right now. But his hands and fingers remain glued to the back of my neck, massaging my skin gently and tearing at my itchy collar. It just occurred to me that I am still wearing a suit. So is Roger. That's why I've been so uncomfortable the whole night.

"Take it off." I whisper in need, the feel of my tie restricting my neck becoming unbearable. Roger breaks our kiss to untie it, dragging it off of my skin and throwing it aside.

"You're commanding when you're drunk." He chuckles as I pull him back to my mouth, needing the feel of his hot breath against mine.

"Shut up." I sigh. Roger pushes me to lie down on the bed, rolling over on top of me and pressing our chests together tightly. At first it's hard to breathe, but I can get used to it. His hands run up and down my body, becoming more curious than before, landing at last on my hips. I feel a tight grip when my tongue swirls against his, brushing lightly over the inside of his bottom lip. His hands begin to move again, this time skimming over my chest, and eventually fumbling with the buttons. After a few minutes I can tell he's having trouble. I break our lips apart and look down at what he's doing.

"Shit." He whispers, leaning his chin on my chest and trying desperately to unweave the top button from underneath the fabric.

"Here." I undo it easily, leaving him a little irritated, but he continues onto he next one anyways. Then I realize that he's taking off my shirt. "Wait." I lay my hand on his, stopping him from going too far. I'm drunk but not ready to have sex.

"Sorry." He murmurs, kissing me harder and with more force than before. Maybe he's trying to make up for the fact that I'm not giving him sex. His teeth softly bite my top lip, pulling me further into his mouth, and deepening the kiss. I grip my hands to his face, rubbing harshly underneath his eyes and at his cheeks. A quiet moan escapes his lips as our mouths open against each other, a noise that sends shivers up my spine. I open my eyes to see his face when I notice a small black line across it. I look closer to see the dark color of eyeliner running down his face.

"Roger. Are you wearing eyeliner?" I giggle lightly, trying to hide it behind my hand but not really succeeding. He presses his finger to his face, collecting some of the make up and then regarding it on his skin.

"Carrie put it on me. She said it looked good." He pouts, as he begins to wipe the remains of it away.

"No. Leave it on. It's…hot." I tell him, playfully smudging the other side to make it look messy. "There. Perfect." I leave my hand cupping his cheek, and stare into his green eyes. I've never really noticed how beautiful they are. Even with the black chalk down his face, his eyes pop out as his best feature. "I could…just…stare at you." I mumble, and he tips his head to the side with a smile.

"I think I could do the same. But I'd rather make out." He smirks seductively, forcing me to kiss him. My fingers run through his silky soft hair, burying themselves deeper until my hands connect with each other at his neck. I continue down his body, brushing against the back of his tie, over the bones of his shoulder blades and muscle curves of his back, until I reach the small. I don't want to go lower, in case he thinks that's too far. It's too early. His tongue works itself in my mouth, and I wonder if he's done this with Carrie before. They hadn't been going out for too long, friends beforehand, but maybe they had a couple sexual encounters. Is Roger still a virgin? I'm thinking into this way too much. We haven't even made out before this and I immediately assume it's leading to sex.

"Little glammed up Roger…" I whisper in his ear as his teeth lightly nip at my neck, biting softly at the skin and leaving slight evidence that he was there. He rolls his eyes at me, squinting them and gently licking the red marks he has made. I moan at the feel of his tongue, while shifting uncomfortable beneath him. His weight is getting a little too much for me to handle.

"Sorry, fuck I'm hurting you." He groans, pushing away to lean next to me on the bed.

"Nah, you weren't." I insist, even though I can breathe for the first time in five minutes. Instead, he pulls me on top of him, connecting our mouths while I get comfortable against his strong chest. It feels so good to be pressed to him, his arms wrapped lightly around my waist and his tongue running smoothly over my teeth. His calloused fingers rub over my chin, bringing me closer to him. I hear the door click open, but I'm too occupied with Roger's free hand all over my body.

"Roger! I said no fucking on my bed!" Katie's voice appears from the doorway, giggling and sounding a little dazed. I immediately jump off of Roger, leaving his lips reluctantly. I turn around to see Katie's pink face smiling back at me. "Why are you stopping?" She furrows her brow, a smirk remaining on her lips as Roger pulls me back to him.

"She doesn't mind." He tells me, softly pecking me on the mouth, asking me to kiss him back. I comply and plunge my tongue roughly through his lips, meeting suddenly with his own velvet tongue. He smiles against my kiss, and I hear Katie squeal in delight. I guess it gives her some sort of pleasure to watch us make out.

"Not at all, but let's keep it down if you guys actually do…you know." She makes a crude gesture with her hand, and Roger separates our mouths.

"Katie, if we do do that, you are definitely not staying for it!" He chuckles and lays his hand on the back of my neck. "Anyway, we're not sluts. It will be at least another week." He smiles kindly at me, and reaches forward gently for my lips.

"Guys, seriously don't! You are making me giggle, and the alcohol doesn't help." Katie chuckles, then suddenly her smile turns to a frown.

"Katie…what are you giggling about in here?" Carrie steps through the doorway, and I feel Roger's hand press firmly against my chest, pushing me away from his lips. At first I let out a gasp of pain, then shock. _Shit. This is not good._ I see Roger out of the corner of my eyes, burying his face in his hands and groaning. Now I've gotten Roger into a huge pile of shit. I knew we shouldn't have done this. For a few seconds, Carrie just stands there staring at Roger and I. Eventually Roger picks his head up again, tears beginning to fall down his face. I want to lean over to embrace him, but I know I can't. Damn it. I just have to watch him hurt like this. Katie attempts to grasp Carrie's shoulder for comfort, even before one word is spoken, but Carrie immediately pushes her away. "Don't you fucking touch me!" She screams, causing Roger and Katie to jump in fear. I see Roger shrug back lightly, and I think he wishes we could make some sort of contact too.

"Carrie, calm down." Katie whispers kindly, and I can finally see why Roger would love her so much. Even when she is drunk and completely out of it, she has a calm nature to her. But Carrie keeps up her harsh behavior, glaring at Katie and shaking with fury.

"I will NOT calm down! How can I when I just saw my boyfriend making out with a guy! Roger…" Her voice breaks and she sighs, frustrated and dizzy. I can tell she is drunk, I know she usually wouldn't get this mad. I feel so horrible for her finding out this way. I really wasn't thinking about her finding out at all. But I guess I don't have that to think about anymore.

"Carrie. There is no need to be this angry. Mark and Roger just have this…"

"They have nothing! Roger and I are together!" Carrie points towards Roger, and he opens his mouth to say something, but immediately shuts it again.

"Carrie. Please." Katie moves toward the drunken teen, but Carrie shifts away as soon as she can.

"Stop saying my name like that! Wait a minute…" A confused look comes over her face, and then she squints irately in Katie's direction. "Did you…did you know…about this?" Her eyes glaze over as she stares at Carrie, waiting impatiently for an answer to spring from her trembling lips. Katie glances at us fearfully, then proceeds to speak.

"Umm…yes. I was the one who told them to go for it. They were holding back feelings. But maybe that's because they knew you would react like this!" Katie develops an edge to her words, and I close my eyes in angst. Hopefully Roger and I won't be forced to explain ourselves. I'm certainly not ready to get involved in this.

"Jesus! I knew you were jealous of me, but telling Roger to break up with me? How immature can you get?" This sends Katie into a mad fit, although I can tell she is trying to keep as calm as possible.

"Jealous? Jealous of someone who doesn't even get Roger?"

"You're one to talk! I'm not the one who left him alone! I'm not the one who developed a bond and then completely ignored it when I moved away! I am all he has and you can't just expect to come back to the past like all of that never happened." I'm ready for the two girls to begin clawing at each other, but instead Carrie breaks out into tears. Now all of this is starting to have meaning. We have truly hurt someone's feelings.

"Car, please don't cry." Roger begs, his own tears affecting his speech as he wipes them quickly away. He doesn't bother to get up, probably assuming he will just be pushed away if he tries to comfort Carrie.

"Would you rather have Roger lie to you?" Katie questions, and Carrie sniffles sadly.

"He did lie to me!" Her voice is cracking from her tears, but it's still powerful. It still manages to make me feel guilty. It still manages to be heard from the next room over, as Maureen comes walking in soon after.

"Carrie…what's wrong? Why are you crying?" Maureen rests her hand on Carrie's shoulder, being the only one who is allowed to offer comfort and peace right now. But as soon as Carrie stops trembling, Maureen is able to start placing blame. "Roger what the hell did you do?" Her angry eyes set on Roger's guilt-ridden face, and he simply looks over to me. All I can do is smile and set my hand on top of his. Even though it's risky, it comforts him, as he smiles back at me. "Mark…" Maureen whimpers, now putting the pieces together in her head.

"Mark and Roger were kissing!" Carrie blurts out, and Roger's smile quickly fades. I rub my temples violently, as if it will erase this conversation out of my mind. But the reaction I expected does not occur.

"Oh yea. Before? That was pretty intense. What does that have to do with anything?" Maureen smiles naively, and Katie sighs.

"I trusted him and he just…he didn't even…he told Katie! What the fuck! Katie isn't…I'm the one…am I not good? I don't…why him? I'm enough…no one…Maureen!" Carrie blabbers on unintelligibly while Maureen wrinkles her forehead, not understanding what the hell is happening.

"Maureen, Roger and Mark are…well…" Katie glimpses at us on the bed and takes in a deep breath. I nod at her, giving her permission to tell and she continues on. "They are together. Carrie saw them…you know…smooching." It takes all of my energy not to laugh at her explanation of the events. She's so blunt, but she gets her point across.

"Oh." Maureen simply stares at the ground before opening her mouth, causing me to cringe. "Roger! How could you do that to Carrie? She is your best friend! I can't _believe _you!" She clenches her fists tightly at her side, and for a second I'm afraid that she might attempt to strike Roger. I've never seen her look this mad before. Then to my surprise, she turns towards me. "And Mark, you went along with this? I can't believe you hurt Carrie like this…and…I thought…we were…" Her eyes are now drowning in sadness, but her accusations force me to defend myself.

"I'm sorry I couldn't help but be slightly lonely when you left me two minutes into the dance! You are always leaving me out, and I need someone who actually cares. I want someone who actually listens to me. I'm sorry Mo. But I…" I can't continue suddenly, after all of the anger has built up in me to a hilt. I press my palm to my forehead to calm myself down, when I feel a hand grasp my shoulder.

"Mark, I'm sorry." I hear a sweet voice whisper, and open my eyes to see Maureen's big brown ones staring back at me. She backs away quickly, hoping Carrie won't see her acceptance of this whole thing, then proceeds to hug her best friend. "Carrie, it's all right. Shhh…they didn't mean to hurt you." I'm sort of surprised at Maureen's behavior, but I guess we weren't as close as Carrie and Roger.

"Mo! How could you say that! Now you're taking their side? Am I _all _by…" Carrie's eyes bug out as her breathing becomes heavier, and her body jerks spastically against Maureen's embrace. She runs hastily out of the room, and a retching is heard coming from what I can assume is the bathroom. I guess the anger took its toll. The anger mixed with the alcohol.

"Carrie!" Maureen runs frantically after her, showing me a sad smile before exiting. It gives me a little hope for our friendship that she's all right with Roger and I. But there's still the matter of Carrie's attitude towards us. I don't want Roger to lose one of his best friends just because of me.

"Guys…are you okay?" Katie slides over to sit next to Roger, slipping her arm around his shoulder and squeezing securely. I also scoot up against him, kissing him lightly on the cheek to help.

"I'm fine." I say selfishly, then wait for Roger to answer. He sits with tears running down his face, staring blankly at the ground.

"I…" He begins to speak, but just scoffs instead. "I can't believe that just happened. I feel so…horrible." His eyes narrow, and I grasp his hand tightly in mine. He still doesn't react, but keeps his eyes focused on the same patch of the floor.

"Sweetie, don't feel bad. She's just a little drunk. I'm sure once she sobers up and has time to think about it all everything will be all right." Katie gently rubs Roger's arm, the sleeve of his white shirt moving in the same rhythm.

"I'm sorry you guys. I'm sorry you had to see that. I…didn't mean for her to find out tonight. Especially not like that." He mumbles weakly, and I kiss the center of his palm.

"Roger don't apologize. You have the right to be happy. Both of you. She's just thinking of herself right now, and she probably doesn't see what's between you two." Katie's voice soothes both of us, more so Roger, and I thank her subtly with a smile. "Now I'll leave you two alone. Thank you guys for coming. I'm sorry for all this shit. People. I swear to God." Katie chuckles as she kisses Roger on the cheek, then leans over to peck my forehead kindly.

"Bye Kate. Thanks." Roger says, and Katie waves us goodbye before returning to the living room. As soon as she's gone, I wrap my arms around Roger's body, running my fingers over the strong muscles in his back. I hear him sobbing into my shoulder, and pull away to connect our lips briefly. "I'm sorry Mark. Jesus, I'm sorry." He whispers, grabbing my hand in his and using his free one to cup my cheek. "I didn't mean to throw you into all of that. I'm so…"

"Roger…shh…it's not your fault. It was my decision too." I tell him, and he faintly nods in agreement. My eyes move to his hand, as I trace shapes gently with my finger. "If you think about it, it's better now that everyone knows. I mean it's out in the open. We didn't have to hide it for that long." He seems lost in thoughts as my skin runs over his, and a few seconds later he pulls away.

"I guess. I'm just scared of losing Carrie. She's my best friend. I screwed all of this up…" His voice raises out of a whisper, and I place my hand onto the side of his neck, massaging it with the tips of my fingers.

"Roger, you're not going to lose Carrie. Like Katie said, if she's really you're best friend, she will come around. You didn't screw it all up. You still have me…" I rub a salty tear away from his cheek, and he grips onto my wrist with his hand, firmly wrapping his fingers around it. I close my eyes slowly as he kisses me, comfort I need. His lips grasp onto mine, trying to find security in my kiss. He exhales evenly when we break, and smiles at me, relieved.

"Thank you." He sighs and lies back on the bed. "We're staying here tonight. There's no way I can drive like this." I nod urgently and join him on the bed, snuggling into his body and listening to his heart beat steadily. After a long night, I'm finally comfortable.

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Notes: Phew! That was a long one too…with lots of fighting and fluff. I'm sorry for making Carrie such a bitch, but hey, she is drunk. Cut her some slack. Hope you liked it! Thanks to my "guardian angel" on this chapter, couldn't have done it without you. ;-) I love your feedback! So go at it!


	11. That Phase

A/N: I'm sorry for such a long wait, but as you know wasn't working too well, so yes, that's the deal. Hopefully this fluffy and pointless chapter will make up.

Disclaimer: Jonathan Larson's…except for Katie and Carrie.

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Roger's POV

"It's this one." Mark points out his house, yawning and rubbing his temples. After sleeping until one in the afternoon, it's hard to believe that he's still tired. But I guess the hangover got to him. Unfortunately, our memories are still intact. Carrie's hurt and angry face settles in the back of my mind, imprinted forever.

"I know, I've been here before Mark." I say coldly, taking out my frustration on him. When we pull into the driveway I rest my palm on his thigh to apologize, and he leans over to kiss me lightly goodbye.

"I'll see you Monday at school." His voice sighs, and suddenly the prospect of not seeing him for two days is becoming harder to grasp.

"Do you want to do something tonight? Or…tomorrow?" My tone is almost desperate, but I calm my thoughts when Mark gently smirks.

"Yea. Uhhh…what do you want to do?" He asks, getting back into the car and slamming the door shut. My mind races, thinking of all the places I could take him, all the things we could do. I don't really know how much excitement I need right now after that fucking disaster of a party.

"Strip club?" I sarcastically suggest, and Mark softly strikes my forearm.

"Very funny." His teeth peek through his bright pink lips, flushing out his face even more than it naturally is. I reach forward to meet his mouth, when he pulls back. "Don't…my dad is watching." I glance into the window, noticing his father, arms crossed and staring directly at us in the car. I really don't know if I understand or if I'm angry with Mark.

"Sorry." I whisper, and he grasps my hand in his tightly.

"No, it's not you. I just don't want him to find out now. I don't know when I ever do…but…" I see a red tint spread across his cheeks, and I grab hold of his other hand.

"Mark, it's okay. Tell them when you're ready." I want to reach up and stroke his face, meeting lips carefully and cautiously, but I can't. I understand how he feels, especially since his parents don't seem like the accepting type. Then again, am I going to tell my mom?

"Are you sure? I mean, are you going to tell your parents?"

"I don't know Mark, I mean this has only been going on for like…a day. I don't really…" His head drops quickly, while his fingers untangle from mine.

"Yea, all right. I get it. Umm…why don't you call me later when you figure out what's going on. Okay?" He begins to climb out of the car once again when I grasp his foot between my fingers, playfully pulling him back to his seat.

"Don't leave mad Mark. I just meant…I didn't mean that I don't want this to turn into…I mean…" I bury my face in my hands, sighing harshly with frustration. Mark rubs my back to soothe me, and it works within seconds. "I just, don't want to talk about it so soon. I guess I just don't want to think about it." I admit, brushing a piece of hair casually out of my face.

"It's all right, Rog. I understand." His voice is calm and patient, and I know that falling for Mark won't be hard. I don't know how I kept away from him for so long. Feeling his fingers on my back, his smooth words telling me everything is all right, it's just all I ever needed.

"You know, maybe we should just go now. We could pick up Katie and just head somewhere. I'm sure she will take us somewhere interesting." Mark turns back towards his house as I impatiently tap my fingers on his thigh. Apparently he notices, snapping his neck around and facing me, grasping my hand firmly.

"All right. Yea, it'll be fun right?" A smile creeps slowly across his lips, and I nod in an answer, sliding my body over to his. I make sure his father is out of sight before pressing my lips to his skin. He looks nervous, almost hesitant as my mouth caresses his neck, sucking spots of skin then kissing the noticeable circles left behind. "Rog, let's go, my father's gonna see you." He clears his throat anxiously, and I reluctantly pull away from him.

"Don't worry so much." I run my finger over his bony jaw line, and then return my hands to the steering wheel. "Okay, Katie's house? Jesus, we just came from there. This trip was useless." He yawns again, nodding sluggishly as I let a smirk come, even though I'm a little angry. It never really occurred to me that we would still have to hide after Carrie found out. But it's just one more thing I'll have to tolerate.

"You think she's home?" Mark peeks through the windshield to Katie's house as I pull recklessly into her driveway.

"Well I don't know where the hell she would go in the ten minutes we've been gone."

"Oh, right." He chuckles as I slowly descend from the car. I look back to see Mark blushing, and realize that we are still in that phase. We have just begun dating, and he probably still feels awkward touching me, kissing me, and even making eye contact. In a way I'm a little nervous around him too, but we will grow out of it eventually.

I walk up to Katie's front porch, contemplating if I should simply open the door and walk in, but instead I decide to ring the doorbell. Katie comes to the door a few seconds later, still dressed in her gown and looking a little wasted. She smiles warily at me, focusing her eyes and opening the door.

"Hey. What are you doing back so soon? Forgot something?" She pulls me into a hug, and I bury my face in her hair, wrapping my arms softly around her body. A hint of vodka stings my nostrils, and I can tell she's still a bit drunk. But I probably am too.

"Nah, Mark and I were wondering if you wanted to do something today. You busy?" I brush an eyelash gently off her face, and her eyes beam with excitement.

"Nope! I'd love to go! Awww…you guys are so nice to invite me! I'll just get changed quick, kay?" She sprints upstairs before I have time to answer, and I pivot on my feet to see Mark drifting off to sleep in the car.

"Kate, I'll be in the car with Mark!" I yell up the stairs to her, and hear some kind of disjointed mumblings as an answer. I push the door open again and run to my car to join Mark.

"Hey, move over." I tell him, leaning my body against his tired one. I rest my head on his shoulder, but find it hard to get comfortable. His arm is quite bony. I fidget a little until he gets the clue, and shifts so his head is back against the window and his legs spread across the bench seat. I sit myself between his legs, and feel his arms join together around my waist. Maybe he's not as nervous as I thought about us. I smile warmly before falling back on his body, letting my eyes close and my mind relax.

"Mmmm…I'm so fucken tired." He whispers delicately in my ear, and I moan in agreement before jumping from a sharp knock on the window.

"Jesus!" I snap, as Katie opens the door to climb in.

"You guys are so adorable!" She screeches her new catchphrase while pushing our legs off of the seat and adjusting herself comfortably behind the wheel.

"You driving or something?" Mark asks as I climb off of him after inconveniently being forced out of my position. I kiss his pale cheek in an apology, and redirect my attention to the drunken teenager about to drive.

"Yea, who said you could drive my car?" I pry playfully and lightly push her into the door.

"Me. We're going to the mall and I don't wanna have to give you assholes directions." Katie says bluntly, and seconds later we are being dragged to the mall.

Everyone inside seems bored, pulled along with friends, wives, children or their classmates. The aroma of grease and new clothes fills my nostrils, and I look over to see Mark rub his eyes once again.

"You still tired?" I nudge his skinny arm and he yawns with a nod.

"I'm always tired. It never goes away." His smile is so brief and fatigued that I can't help but lean over to kiss him on the corner of his mouth. He's shocked at first but giggles sweetly at me in response.

"Do you guys mind if we shop around a little first? I never make it to the mall anymore, and I should take advantage of it." I meet Mark's eyes, looking for a sign of boredom or agitation. But all he does is smile. Asshole. I don't fucking want to shop.

"Guess not." I sigh, placing my hands softly on both of Mark's shoulders and leading him into a department store. I feel a thin white fabric between my fingers, and realize that Mark is only wearing his undershirt from the dance. Then it hits me that I am still fully clothed with a tie. Mark was at least smart enough to remove his tie and dress shirt, while I probably look like an idiot in a mall sporting a tux. "I think I need to change." I whisper in his ear, and he bends back to gaze at my outfit.

"I don't know, that pink tie is pretty hot." He pulls softly on it, bringing my lips to his in a gentle, yet open-mouthed kiss. I would assume that the position is slightly uncomfortable for him, considering he is leaning over his shoulder to meet my face. Nevertheless his tongue works against mine, running across my bottom teeth before removing itself and allowing his body to retract back to walking regularly.

"Then I think I'll keep it." My breath reigns over his neck, moistening his pale skin. Before my lips can make contact, Katie pulls me over to some clothing racks and I grunt in dissatisfaction.

"Look! Wouldn't these jeans look adorable on Mark?" She holds a pair of faded blue jeans literally inches away from my face, and I wince at the distance.

"Uhh…sure." I answer before inspecting the pants and she stuffs them into Mark's arms.

"Here, try these on. And Roger try on this shirt." She throws a blue t-shirt at me, and we follow the orders. I creep ahead of him to the dressing rooms and sprint into the first vacant enclosed area I find.

"You are so immature." I hear Mark's voice behind me as I slam the door shut and chuckle at the truth in his statement. I fling my shirt and tie off and slip on the blue one, finding it a little tight in the arms but definitely more comfortable than my dress shirt. After a few seconds of admiring myself in the mirror, I swing open the door and glance down the hall. Katie isn't in sight. No one is. I slowly make my way to the room across from mine and dip my body down to the floor. Mark's familiar stiff dress pants lie sloppily on the ground, and I stand back up to enter. My palm presses to the cold green door and I casually push it inward.

"What the hell?" Mark's voice screeches as he frantically covers his delicate parts with his hands. I smirk widely when I can finally see all of him, including his bright red face. My mind returns to the thought of my pink tie as I stand face to face with Mark's faded pink boxers. I hold back a giant laugh, biting my lip so hard I almost puncture it.

"I should say the same thing." I whimper, and Mark's eyes shut with a sigh. "I'm sorry. No, believe me they are…_adorable._" He smacks me as I finally let my laugh run free, and he grasps for the jeans as quick as he can. Before he can slip them over his feet, I stop him. "What are you doing?"

"Putting my pants on…" His voice is so tiny, and I can tell he's embarrassed. I carefully grasp the jeans out of his hands and drop them onto the floor, leaving our hands twined together.

"Why? I love the pink. Did you wear them just so we would match?" My fingers find the waistband of the boxers and playfully snap them softly against his hip. I feel him shudder under my touch and sigh.

"No, I…I was trying to do my own laundry. There was…a red sock in the washer and…they turned pink. But I didn't have enough time to find another clean pair. I never thought anyone would see them…" His head drops to hide his blushing face, but I refuse to let him be ashamed.

"Mark, they are fucken hot. Why are you embarrassed?" I smile calmly and allow my hand to make contact with his cheek. My fingers brush lightly against his heated skin, over his lips and down his throat.

"I'm…I'm not. I just…" His words become moans, choked whimpers as my tongue slides gently along his jaw line, only peeking out of my mouth the slightest bit. "Roger…what if someone…hears…" My hands grip tightly to his waist, pulling him closer to my body and closing the unbearable gap between us.

"No one will." I sigh against his throat, then move slowly up to his lips, capturing them roughly in a passionate kiss. I don't let his tongue inside my mouth, instead I decide to let him linger on my nearly wanton lips. I sense that he's getting a little too excited, and scoff softly when he breaks away from me.

"What if someone sees two pairs of feet underneath the door? I don't want…" His voice is breathless and paranoid, but I can obviously see that he wants to keep going, even though his fearful thoughts aren't letting him.

"All right, fine." My fingers move from his waist to his ass, gripping tightly and lifting him up violently. I find it easier to carry him than I thought it would be, as his thighs rest lightly on my hips.

"Rog…" He shrieks once he notices that he is being lifted off the ground, but as soon as my mouth connects with his again, his complaints stop. A little grunt is released from his lips as I push him against the wall, sealing our bodies into one. As my tongue finally thrusts through his teeth, his bare legs wrap securely around my waist, allowing me to loosen my grip underneath him. I hesitantly break our kiss and smile seductively up at him.

"Now there aren't two pairs of feet." I state, but he barely listens, gripping the back of my head to bring our mouths clashing back together. The feel of his tongue against mine doesn't seem enough, and my hand runs quickly up his body to grasp his blond hair, leaving my arm resting against the side of his shoulder. I open my mouth wider to deepen the kiss, digging my tongue into the back of his throat. I have a feeling I'm going a little too far, as I don't know how far I can go without gagging him. But apparently he enjoys it, groaning into my mouth and leaving me anxious for even more.

"Roger? Where did Mark go?" Katie knocks sharply on the door, and Mark's mouth separates from mine.

"Shit." He whispers, and I let him gently fall back to his feet. His dress pants are quickly pulled back on, and I reluctantly open the door.

"Hey Kate." I smile falsely, and Katie breaks into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. Mark and I exit the dressing room without a word, the taste of his saliva still fresh in my mouth as I change back into my tie and dress shirt.

Once we are finally ready to purchase things, Mark and I have slipped slightly out of the awkward phase with Katie.

"So, Roger you buying anything?" Katie forces her wallet out of her pocket, retrieving all of her money and entering the line at the cash register. I glance down at the blue pile of fabric in my hands and smile.

"Yea, I'm gonna get this t-shirt. I think it's lucky." Mark giggles quietly behind me as we make our way through the line, and I happily purchase my new favorite shirt.

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"Mark, come on. Hurry up!" I tap him briefly on the shoulder as his sweaty palms cling to the cord of the pay phone.

"I am! Just give me a minute. I haven't been home in a long time and I want my mom to know where I am. Especially since my dad saw me with a suspicious horny boy in the car outside our house." Mark glares condescendingly at me while Katie snickers quietly. I don't want to yell back at him, so instead I push my body flush against his back, nibbling lightly at his neck. "Roger, quit it! My mom's gonna hear…hi...mom." Mark spurts out nervously, as Katie begins to giggle violently behind us. "No, mom I'm fine." He elbows me harshly in the stomach and huddles to the phone booth in fear that I'll jump back to him immediately. Instead I leave him alone for now.

I hear his mother's voice squeaking on the other end, and try to hold in laughter bursting from my lips. The look on Mark's face is of pure fear and annoyance as he tries to get in some kind of explanation.

"Mom…mom…would…just listen!" He finally snaps, and I can't help but smile at his high-pitched yell. I lay a hand on his back, calming him and reminding him that I am still here. "Mom, I'm with Roger at the mall okay? I stayed at…Maureen's last night with everyone because we got home late. I didn't mean to worry you." He rolls his eyes once he finishes and I peck him softly on the cheek.

"You want to stay at my house tonight?" I whisper to him, and he nods enthusiastically. I don't blame him for not wanting to return home after what I heard on the phone.

"Mom, can I stay over at Roger's tonight?" I see his knuckles turn white from gripping the phone cord too tightly, and wrap my arms around his waist. A slightly audible sigh reaches his lips, and I kiss the back of his ear. "All right. I will. Okay bye mom." He slams the phone back in its place and turns to face me. "She said I can stay over if I come home earlier tomorrow." My eyebrows go up automatically, and I lean in to his lips, when I remember that Katie is watching us intently.

"Mark, I have a feeling that someone is watching us…" I glare at Katie and she smiles innocently. "Come on guys, we've been here for a while, I want to eat." I drag Mark out of the little hollowed in area where the phones rest and Katie follows behind. In truth we've only been here for two hours or so, but that's long enough for me. Plus with the half an hour drive, thanks to Katie's reckless driving, I just want to scarf down something edible and hit the road. "What should we get?" I stop Mark and Katie behind me and sit down at the nearest available table.

"Pizza." Katie states, looking longingly up at me.

"Oh, I see the deal. I'm the only one with money again. So I'm buying I guess?" My eyes change quickly from Katie to Mark, who is purposely avoiding my eyes. The truth is I really don't mind buying for them. "All right, I'll buy if Mark holds my hand up at the counter." Katie's face melts as I suggest this, and I hear Mark scoff at her.

"Fine. But you better not start making out with me in front of the employee." He points his finger to my chest, but I refuse to agree and instead grasp his hand in mine. The sound of Katie's giggles are heard while we walk away, and I slam my free hand onto the cool metal of the counter.

"Hey! Could we get three slices of pizza? And…sweetheart what do you want to drink?" I say lovingly to Mark, and his eyes narrow at me. Immediately my hand is dropped and he nervously chuckles.

"Coke." He whispers to the lady who is now staring at him with a furrowed brow.

"Me too. So three cokes." I wink at the young lady and Mark pushes me lightly with his arm. "Jealous mister?" I say quite loudly, and Mark's anxious eyes scan the room. "Don't worry. The pizza lady can't steal me from you. Not when I've worked so hard to get you." I tangle our fingers together and pull him into my body, leaving a tight gap between our chests. As my face tips forward to his, we are stopped by a sharp bang on the table beside us.

"Hey, guys! There is a little kid here! Could you not grope each other like pigs?" A short gray-haired woman screams at us, and I rip quickly out of Mark's grip to head towards her table. Suddenly Mark's hand reaches out to firmly grasp my arm, and I'm pulled backwards.

"Don't. Just leave them alone." He whispers in my ear, and I grab our food and drinks before heading back to Katie.

"Any trouble?" Katie asks, a mischievous smirk playing on her lips and I throw her slice of pizza roughly in front of her.

"No. Just some…"

"Roger, just eat." Mark pushes my food to me and I sigh in frustration. But as soon as I feel his hand on my leg under the table, all thoughts of anyone else disappear from my mind.

The parking lot is crowded with honking horns and screaming drivers as we depart from the food court, all exhausted and needing some sort of sleep. It probably wasn't the best idea to do anything after the night we had. I grasp the sharp metal keys in between my fingers as we walk to my car and wearily slip it in the keyhole to enter. Katie appears next to me without warning, and I slightly jump from surprise. All she does in return is smile, and I shake my head in a chuckle.

"Is Katie driving again?" Mark opens his door cautiously, reluctant to get in the front seat if she is about to get behind the wheel. He looks over to her to see her nod matter-of-factly, when I swoop my body underneath hers to the driver's seat. Mark laughs maniacally then cuddles up to me once he enters the car. Katie is forced in the backseat as Mark lounges across the entire bench, and I see her cross her arms in frustration.

"Sorry Kate. Mark and I will make out sometime to make it up to you." Mark punches me in the arm again, and I capture his lips before he can say anything. Now he doesn't seem to mind making out in front of Katie. His tongue thrusts between my wanting lips, rubbing briefly against mine then retracting back to his own mouth. The force of the kiss leaves me bruised when he pulls away seconds later, and I'm breathless when I open my eyes. I clear my throat to shake the feeling of Mark's lips off and start the car.

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Notes: That chapter was pretty pointless and fluffy, but who minds that? Sorry if the update seemed like it took forever, it did to me. Thanks for all the reviews guys! I really appreciate it!


	12. We'll Get There

A/N: Hello everyone. Here is the next chapter, and I hope you like it. Sorry it took so long to update, but lately I just haven't had the knack for writing. But…I bring it to you after my phase of writer's block has ended. Happy Birthday to Rosario Dawson also! Yay!

Disclaimer: Jonathan Larson's.

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Mark's POV

"God, that day was exhausting." Roger jumps into his bed, the metal springs bouncing him lightly up and down. He lays down spread eagle, exhaling heavily and allowing his dirty blond hair to sprawl across the mattress. I can't help but stare at him as his breaths calm, his quiet moans of fatigue floating through my ears. My head leans against the wooden doorframe, and I fight to keep my eyes open. I guess I'm more wiped than I thought.

"More like that entire night and day." I laugh, standing awkwardly in the doorway. I don't know if Roger wants me to join him or not, but for now I'm staying here.

"I'm sorry about Carrie." His voice is soft and loving, as he remains lying across the bed, now staring wide-eyed at the ceiling above him.

"Don't be sorry. Don't even begin with that again." I move slowly inside his room towards him, as he completely sits up and leans against the wall beside his bed. His hands rest gently on his lap, fingers fiddling, lifting and dropping nervously.

"I know. I'm sorry. Sorry." He buries his face in his hands, and now I know that I have to sit beside him. Watching Roger upset without being able to comfort is like torture.

"Shhh…" My body slowly creeps next to him, and I place my hand on his back, rubbing carefully up and down. This whole situation is very reminiscent of last night, making Roger feel better after Carrie's huge, drunken explosion. I wonder if I'll have to comfort him a lot. I guess I don't mind, just as long as he's there for me too. "Don't be sorry either. I know that it's hard to suddenly lose such a…"

"Mark. Let's not talk about Carrie. I shouldn't have brought her up." He nods reassuringly, and a part of me wants to smile in relief. Am I actually happy about this whole thing? Am I glad Carrie isn't here for Roger just so that I can take her place? I couldn't be jealous, I'm fine with Katie, and now that Roger and I are together I have no reason to be. Do I? "I'm too tired to talk about Carrie." He finishes, staring deeply into my eyes, as if trying to think of how to touch me first.

"All right." I'm a few seconds behind, having been captured in his beauty. I can't believe this boy is with me. Looking at him just makes me feel horrible that he has to look at _me_. "Why…why would you?" I don't finish my thought, and instead become aggravated at my confusion. Roger doesn't know what the hell is going on, yet he's still able to pull me into his body when he knows I'm frustrated.

"What's wrong?" He whispers in my ear, running his hand lightly through my hair and massaging my neck with the tips of his fingers.

"Nothing…nothing. It's not important." I shrug, bringing my legs underneath my body, sitting carefully on them. Roger does the same across from me, loosening himself from my unsure grip and letting a sad smirk play on his lips.

"You sure?" I notice him swinging his head lightly to catch my gaze, which has now fallen on my clothed knees, making a mental note that I should probably change my dirtied shirt and pants as soon as possible. Not that I mind being able to smell Roger on me, it's actually the nicest cologne I could have ever asked for. But I have a feeling if I don't change soon, and take a shower for that matter, I might start to feel a little like a hobo.

"Yea…I…I don't really think I should get into the whole thing. It's…" My heavy breaths begin to take over my words, transforming into low moans of want, as Roger's hand strokes lightly over my cheek, down my jaw and neck, and finally lands against my heart. Goose bumps have now spread every place they could possibly arrive, and all that's left is Roger and I.

"You're so…" He whispers, keeping his distance, but letting his hand roam freely over my body. He's careful not to touch any obviously sensitive areas, knowing that it's too soon. Or at least for now.

"I'm so…what?" I squeak out, breathy and needing. I don't allow my fingers to make contact with him yet, I have to restrain. I don't want to ruin the pleasure that's coming with these moments. Just…hold out longer…oh _Jesus_ it feels so good. Only the tips of his fingers are running over my skin…no not even my skin. It's just over my clothes. Over the fabric, he can still make me shiver. He can still have this great of an affect on me. Just by…skimming over me.

"You're so…" His hand moves back up to my face, cupping my cheek and forcing me to re-focus my gaze onto his stare. But once I realize how fucking perfect his green eyes are sparkling in the setting sun, I would rather look at them than anything else in the world. "…beautiful." He finishes, sighing gracefully and prompting a deep blush to dig into my cheeks. He thinks I'm _beautiful_? No one has ever described me using that word before. Jewish. Scrawny. Pale. Little. Tiny. Nerdy. But never beautiful. Nothing even close.

"Me?" I furrow my brow, hearing Roger chuckle gently. A noise that sends a chill up my spine. It's almost as if I can get off listening to his voice. Am I that easy?

"Yes you. Who else would I be talking so fondly of? Ya know, with the fifty other hot guys in my room." A wide smile spreads his thin pink lips across his pearly white teeth, and I drift into a daze of admiration.

"Hot? Now I'm hot and beautiful?" I grasp his hand in mine at last, loving the feel of his skin against mine as I lace our fingers together. His head tips back in confusion, before he leans forward to press his lips to my cheek.

"Of course." He reassures me, fisting my shirt at my chest and pulling me towards him. I don't object, but instead close my eyes expectantly, awaiting the soft and kind feel of his lips sliding over mine.

"Roger…are you hommmm…oh!" A bleach blonde woman breaks in, quickly covering her eyes with her bony hand then making her way right back out.

"Mom!" Roger screeches, a nervous smile covering his lips, as he pulls hastily away from my shaking body. I don't exactly know if I'm shaking from the kiss, or the break in. _Shit_. Roger's mom…what a nice first impression. "Sorry Mark." He apologizes once he realizes he's just pushed me away, and I shake my head lightly before gazing at the door. Roger lifts off the bed, following my stare to the door, and opens it hesitantly.

After a brief and mumbled conversation, Roger turns to look over his shoulder, slipping me a quick wink and smile. The door opens wide enough for me to see his mother's clenched jaw, sending my stomach into a fit of butterflies. _Shit shit._ What if she calls my mom?

"Mom, this is Mark. Mark this is my mom. Sorry about…" Roger turns back to me, after introducing his mother to me, and I stop him before he can finish.

"Naw, it's all right. I figured…it's fine." I smile, trying my hardest to replace the image in his mother's head of her son kissing another boy. Roger smirks, embarrassed, and faces his mother.

"Mom…Mark and I are going out." He sighs, and she nods stiffly.

"It's nice to meet you Mark." She slides slowly over to the bed, but not before ruffling my hair between her skinny fingers. Oddly enough she looks more like she could be my mother than Roger's. Although she's quite tall, her bright blonde hair bares a slight resemblance to mine. After she takes a seat next to me, I look over to Roger, and notice a small look of accomplishment on his face. I guess he's glad that his mother is warming up to me.

"Thanks for having me over. Your house is really…beautiful." My stomach flutters once again, and I hear an almost inaudible snicker come from Roger.

"Well you're welcome anytime. Roger doesn't have a lot of friends…over." She clears her throat at her last words, and I know that it must be slightly awkward for her to accept Roger having a boyfriend so quickly. But she's being more than kind. "It's nice to know that he's chosen such a polite boy." Another smile graces her face, and in the twinkle of her green eyes, I see Roger shining back at me.

"Roger's lucky to have such a nice mother." I kiss ass even more, even though I _am_ telling the absolute truth. Any kind of compliment will help after what she just witnessed. The funny thing is, if my mother had seen us doing the same thing, Roger would be gone by now. I guess that's the difference between Roger and I. Well, that and that he's a fucking knockout.

"Anyways…" She mumbles, turning her attention to Roger as he rocks slowly on his heels, his muscular arms wrapped around his chest. "Your father called, and invited us to dinner with his new 'fiancé'." Her hands sign quotes in the air, and I can't help but let a small giggle escape my lips. I can tell she's not too excited at the prospect that Roger's father is getting re-married. Then again…I don't even know if Roger's parents were married. Hell, this is the first time I have ever heard anything about his mom. "I said you would go. And there is no canceling. You are going." Her eyebrows raise, convincing him that she is serious.

"Fine." He scoffs, sitting on the other side of me. "But can Mark come?" He poses the questions before even consulting me, and I accidentally gasp at the surprise. I feel his fingers intertwine with mine, comforting me somewhat, but I'm still not sure I want to go on a dinner date with his parents. For Jesus sakes it's only been a few days.

"Uhh…if you want Mark. I guess I don't care. We're meeting his gal-pal, why can't he meet yours?" Her laugh rips through the room, followed by Roger's brief chuckle, one that he retracts when he sees a blush roar across my face. "I'm just kidding Mark. So far you seem pretty adorable to me." _Oh great._ The red blush burns the skin of my cheeks, leaving me almost breathless. It's not until Roger leans over to brush his lips against my temple that I am truly calmed down.

"Mom can we…" Roger hints, nudging his head towards the door in an obvious attempt for some alone time.

"Oh, right. I'll leave you two boys alone. You're probably wiped after that party last night. Sleep well my darlings." She giggles before shutting the door behind her, leaving just Roger and I on the bed.

"Sorry bout her. She's a little quirky in her own way. She seemed to like you though…after I told her we were a couple. You should have seen the bugged out look on her face. But…she accepted it after a few seconds." I sigh with a laugh at his blatant explanation.

"She seemed really nice. I'm glad someone knows other than hormonal teenage girls." My hand slips subconsciously to his thigh, my fingertips circling gently.

"Hah, yea. Should we…sleep?" He squints his eyes with the question, and I nod in agreement before leaning back against his pillow. Surprisingly he doesn't join me, but instead kicks off shoes and whips off his leather belt. I watch him with care, desperately hoping that he won't slip out of his pants. I don't know if I could sleep next to Roger, knowing that he's near nudity. However, to my contentment, he removes his shirt instead, modeling his ripped muscles, slightly shaped but natural. He looks as though his arms have outgrown his chest, biceps much larger than his pecks.

"Uhh…you know it's only six right?" I stumble over words, a little shaken by the sight of Roger's naked torso staring back at me.

"Yea. I thought you wanted to…sleep…" He looks down at me, moving to stand next to the bed and lying a hand against my cheek. My eyes shut in comfort, and I press my palm against his hand.

"I do. I'm so…tired. But…" Without warning he climbs on top of me, colliding lips, hands and bodies all at once. The feeling of his naked skin reminds me that I am still partially in a suit, a fact hat I will have to remember for later. I can't stop him now just to take off my uncomfortable clothing.

"Is this what you had in mind?" He sighs into my mouth, hot breath mixing, until seconds later we are connected again. His tongue lashes through my lips, barely asking for entrance, but breaking through anyway. Our teeth clash, causing only a twinge of pain that's quickly replaced with a moan of pleasure. It feels so good to have his lips moving over mine, his warm tongue sliding through my mouth, plunging into the depths of my throat. My hands roam, down his sides, squeezing gently on his biceps, just because of the curiosity, then land at his hips. His bones shift slowly as he grinds against me, breaking from my mouth to take a strangled breath before returning. Seconds later however, he moves further, his hands coming off my face and gluing themselves to my hips as well. Before I know it I'm flipped on top of him, turned upside down with no control, but I don't mind. He grips cautiously on my ass, letting me know I can break away at any moment. But I have no intention.

"Rog…" I sigh, my fingers trailing around the rim of his boxers to reach his stomach. I'm tempted to dig down the front of them, throwing all of my inhibitions to the wind, but I'm way too nervous. Before I even have the chance, Roger separates our desperate mouths.

"Mark…" He presses our foreheads together, before carefully rolling over on his side to let me climb off of him. "It's too soon to go…that far. Plus…you're only a freshman Mark." Great. Another reason to hate being a freshman. I'm denied sex. By the only person I really want it from.

"I know…I'm sorry. I wasn't going to anyway…" I murmur, noticing that the sun has permanently set, leaving darkness in its absence. Roger looks even more ravishing in the moonlight, the glow outlining his long blond hair and fine-tuned muscles.

"We're both tired. I don't know if it would be the best idea even if we were ready…" He cups my cheek, pulling me into his body and leaning his head back against the pillow. I follow him the whole way. "We will get there…eventually." He whispers against my cheek, kissing my forehead softly and exhaling deeply. And I know we will.

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Notes: Sorry again for such a long gap in the updating, I hope you liked the new chapter! Was Roger's mommy all right? I tried to make her as nice as I could, and as different as possible. Review? Huh? You'd make my life! And I'll love you forever! XD Thanks!


	13. I Miss You

A/N: Thank you guys again for so many excellent reviews! I appreciate every single one of them! After a few chapters of fluff, here I go with some plot. I hope it's not too full of meaning. XD Sorry for the long wait…but hey, forgive me!

Disclaimer: Jonathan Larson's. Of course.

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Roger's POV

2 weeks later

"So…this Friday night?" Mark collides his shoulders with mine gently, his bag strapped around his chest and sneakers quietly slapping the floor with every step. The hall is packed with people, chaos of every kind in every direction. Girls crying, boys laughing, couples fighting, couples making out, teachers yelling, students causing trouble. It's all so high school, I just can't stand being here anymore. I think the only thing that keeps me sane is being with Mark. Two weeks and I'm already fucking beaming.

"Yea…my dad keeps canceling and he insists that Friday is going to work out. So whatever. Are you free?" He nods enthusiastically to my confusion. I have no clue why he would want to meet my father so badly. Maybe he just likes spending time together.

"You're sure you're okay with me coming?" His face looks so innocent, so naïve and small, now any doubt I had in my mind has vanished.

"Of course. I don't know what I'd do without you there. Are _you_ sure you want to come?" I pose with a slight chuckle, burying the thought that this might be a disaster in the back of my mind. As long as my mother is there I'm sure the fights won't be as horrible as I imagine. But I never even considered that I might have to tell my father, whom I don't see except for maybe four times a year, that I am dating another boy. I'm not ashamed of Mark in the slightest bit, if anything I'm grateful, but telling my father will just be…an experience.

"I…yea. Yea, I'm just…a little nervous about meeting your dad…are we gonna? I mean…will he…are you…?" He stumbles over his words and I resist the urge to reach to his lips with mine. School always ruins a perfect opportunity.

"I don't know how things are going to go. Maybe I'll talk to…" My vision is subsided when Carrie and Maureen pass us through the hallway, walking slowly beside each other. Carrie's daily creative outfit catches my eye, another pink blouse with no sleeves, a black skirt with white fringes and sandals. In March. It takes me a second to realize that we are not speaking, but it really hits home when I receive a partially nasty squint from her, then an apologetic pout from Maureen. I turn to look at Mark, his eyes shut temporarily in fear. I guess he's known how mad Carrie is at me for a while, after attending many of the same classes as Maureen, he hears, whether he likes it or not, the details of the girls' every conversation.

"That was…awkward." Mark mumbles, but I'm barely paying attention. I can't help but feel horrible whenever I see Carrie. Whenever I think about Carrie. I just ruined one of my greatest friendships for another one. Although I'm incredibly happy I'm with Mark, there's a feeling of loss. I need Carrie back.

"Yea…look I'll see you later okay? You have to get to class anyways." I smirk sadly, then hesitate as how to say goodbye.

"All right. Umm…" He's at a loss too, and instead of leaving him behind with nothing, I grasp his hand firmly in mine, giving it a tiny squeeze and running my thumb over his knuckle.

"I'll see you later, Mark." I stare directly into his bright blue eyes, at this moment when I would give anything to kiss him. Even though we haven't talked about it yet, I don't think either of us wants to make our relationship the school's business. There are a lot of liberal, open-minded people here, but also a lot of "bullies", as Mark says.

"Yea…" He sighs as I walk away, separating our hands and disappearing into the crowd of teenagers, regretting his absence from the first second we lose contact. I hate this school.

……………………………………………….

"Mom, I'm home." I say quietly, doubting she is able to hear me from the basement, but I could really care less. I'm so wiped after the day I've had, I just want to sink into my bed and die. Maybe I'll call Mark. Maybe Katie. Just someone. Someone who will keep me sane, keep me awake.

I don't wait for an answer before darting up the stairs, turning the corner and reaching my room at the end of the short hallway. Blue carpet cushions my sneakers, and I kick them off when I remember that my mom might just kill me for running through the kitchen without taking them off first. My body immediately falls back on to my bed, the springs harshly jutting into my back as I prop myself up on a pillow, leaning my head against the wall. I grab the phone from its place, wrapping the cord around my finger and dialing the first number that comes to mind.

"Hello?" A voice rings out on the other end, and a brief sigh captures my lips.

"I miss you." I say quietly, and picture Mark blushing on the other end.

"Hey, I miss you too. We only see each other like twice a day, it sucks." I hear some sort of commotion, as if Mark is trying to get away from something. Maybe it's his parents. I don't blame him, after his father was watching his moves like a hawk.

"Yea, I know. We should hang out after school more often. You busy now?" I don't even think before asking, completely ignoring any previous engagements I may have made. My afternoons are usually filled with gossip-chocked conversations with Carrie via telephone, before sitting by myself for hours trying to write music. I think I'd rather spend time with Mark.

"Uhh…I don't know. My grandparents are over and I think they're staying for dinner. My mom might kill me if I leave." He sighs, disappointed. "Sorry." He adds to make sure I know he really doesn't want to reject my offer.

"No, it's all right. You available to talk for a while?"

"Yea, of course." I smile in satisfaction. For some reason I was nervous he would reject a conversation. Am I really that desperate and needy?

"Good." I spurt out, at a loss for words, then shut my eyes in fatigue. My pillow suddenly feels like heaven, forming around my blond locks and curving to fit my comfort. I can't fall asleep…I can't…I…

"Roger?" My eyes snap open, drool beginning to drop out of my mouth when I spring awake.

"Huh? Yea?" I say drowsily, afraid of how long I was actually asleep for.

"I asked you how your day was. Am I really that boring?" I feel so horrible for falling asleep on the phone, after all, I was the one who called him all excited to talk. Then I completely drift away.

"I'm so sorry…I'm just so tired, I didn't mean to fall…"

"Hey. Don't worry. You have a lot of stress. It's no big deal. I'll try to keep the conversations exciting." He quips with an adorable lightness to his voice. I smile with a hint of a blush touching my cheeks, and wrap the phone cord tighter around my finger. Do I deserve him? If it were me I would be so jealous of Carrie I'd probably explode. But he keeps his cool. He actually tells me it's all right. He knows that Carrie is important to me. I admire him for that.

"What would I do without you?" I say out of the blue, then smack my head in response. Where the hell did that come from? He makes a joke and I respond with substance? Fuck.

"I don't know. I was thinking the same thing." Now that just makes it worse. He's so fucken amazing I can't stand it. He knows exactly what to say. Even when he's hesitant or stuttering, it's all perfect.

"Great minds really do think alike." I say after a long pause, as if it took me that long to think of a good joke to follow. I shouldn't have made a joke. Fuck I'm screwing everything up.

"Guess so." He chuckles nervously, when I hear a high voice quietly say something to him in the background. "Jesus, Rog, I have to go. My mom is throwing a fit. She is expecting a call I guess. Sorry." My heart sinks in my chest, but I nod in understanding.

"It's okay. Parents…I'll talk to you later?" I don't know why all of a sudden I'm sounding so desperate, so pleading in everything I say. Mark must bring it out in me.

"Yea. I'll call you again once I'm _allowed_." His voice stings in annoyance, and I laugh softly at his attitude. "You should sleep. You need it." He sounds genuinely worried, making me realize just how lucky I am.

"Okay. I'll try." I glance down at my mattress, feeling the harsh springs with my fingers. It's doubtful I'll be able to fall asleep for long.

"I'll uh…mi…talk to you tomorrow then." He hesitates, but I know what he was going to say. Maybe it's because his mom is there, maybe it's because he's afraid it would be too much.

"All right. Bye Mark."

"Bye." I place the phone back and fall against my pillow, my eyes shutting and my body immediately becoming unconscious. I guess falling asleep isn't as hard as I thought it would be.

……………………………………….

"Roger! Rog!" I'm woken up again in a less than desirable way, as the sounds of my mother's screams fill my ears. I'm able to get myself out of bed to open the door, rubbing my eyes and building up the energy to yell back.

"Yea?" I say as loud as possible, then lean my head against the wooden door while waiting for an answer.

"Carrie's here!" My heart beats roughly in my chest the second I hear her name. She's _here?_ Why would she come over? I thought she hated me.

"Okay." I say quietly, almost to myself as I check the clock. Eight. Holy shit. I slept completely through dinner. Thanks mom. At first I contemplate staying in my room, but then Carrie would just build up more anger towards me. No, I have to face her. I just don't want to fight. I want to apologize, but I know she won't take it.

My body almost forces itself down the stairs until I reach the front door. Carrie is sitting on the porch, on the bench my mother bought spontaneously last year because she thought the porch looked empty, even though it looks worse now with this bright green bench. Tears are streaming down her cheeks, deteriorating her make up and causing her to sniff every few seconds. For a brief moment I just watch her, hating myself for being the reason she's crying. How could I have done this to her?

"Car…" I say gently, opening the door completely and stepping out onto the porch. Her skinny frame rises up to stand in front of me, her skirt blowing in the wind and goose bumps becoming visible across her pale arms. She sighs heavily, letting a small smile show on her lips. This brings tears to my eyes, and stings my heart. I grasp her quickly, pulling her into my body and embracing her shoulders. I want to say something…apologize…beg for forgiveness…anything. But I just can't think of the right words. For now, silence is a virtue.

Her sobs become violent, shaking both of us, and my lips connect with the top of her head to soothe. I doubt I'm of much help, but to my contentment she seems to settle down afterwards. Her fingers grip tightly to the back of my shirt, and I realize that she is not only shaking because of the tears. It's freezing outside, and she has what seems like a tank top on. I remove my button up shirt, placing it around her, and lead her into the house. I still don't know what to say, baffled at the fact that she would even come over. But I'm so glad she did. I've missed her so much.

After we sit down on my bed, I'm rushed into another hug, this one shorter. It feels so good to hold her again, like we are friends. But I know there is more to say. More than silence. She grabs a tissue from the box beside my bed, wiping at her cheeks and nose, then taking in a deep breath. I mentally prepare myself for anything she might say, telling myself that I can't forget Mark. When she's done, she crumples it into a tiny ball and tosses it into my garbage, not even looking to see if she's made it in…which she has. I can't help but smile. Even now, even when she's been sobbing, even when our relationship's core has been shifter, she still shoots baskets into my garbage.

"I missed you. Like I couldn't believe. And I hated myself for it." Tears form again in her eyes, but she's able to pull them in, not letting them affect her confession. I cling our hands together, needing some sort of physical reassurance that this won't end horribly.

"I missed you too. I thought you hated me…" She breaks our eye contact, drifting away mentally and throwing me for a loop. "Do you hate me?" I ask desperately, afraid of her answer.

"I thought I did. I tried to convince myself I did. But I don't. I couldn't. I love you." Her fingers fumble between mine, grasping harder, but all I can do is nod. I can't talk. "I don't know exactly why you and Mark hurt me so much. You're my friend and I want you to be happy. Even if it's not with me. I can see how much you like him, and it's stupid of me to deny it. It's stupid of me to be mad at you for needing something. So, I'm sorry." Her voice deepens, and I see moonlight bouncing off of the tears running down her cheeks. I press our foreheads together, trying to offer comfort. For myself and for her.

"I never meant to hurt you. I'm so sorry…I didn't think that…"

"You're my best friend. I don't want this to come between us." She interrupts me, grasping my wrist firmly with her free hand.

"Me neither. But…" Mark flashes through my mind. I want to be able to tell Carrie about my feelings for Mark without feeling guilty. I need my best friend to listen.

"What?" I build up the courage to tell her, afraid of another outburst, when she looks deeply into my eyes. I trust her. I can say it.

"I don't want to feel horrible for telling you about Mark. He's…well…I don't know. It's only been two weeks, but I need to know I can confide in you without hurting you." I place my thumb on her chin, rubbing it lightly back and forth before she pulls away from my touch.

"Oh." She gets up off of the bed, leaving my hands absent and alone. I situate them together on my lap, unaware of what she is thinking.

"I'm sorry. I know it hasn't been that long but…I like him." I explain, and she nods vigorously, pacing across the room like a madman. Her eyes remain focused on the floor while she wears a hole in the carpet beneath her, and all I can do is stare.

"I know…I _know_." She closes her eyes tightly, rubbing her forehead roughly with the palm of her hand before finally standing still. Her hand moves to her hip, and she straightens out one leg while letting the other one bend slightly in. The look in her eyes is one of confusion, as she carefully searches mine for a sign of what I'm going to say next. But I'm staying quiet. "I just…I don't know if I can take the thought of you two…I mean you can tell me…I just…I don't want to be…around…I…" Her fists clench at her sides, and I stand up swiftly to pull her into yet another embrace.

"Shh…" I whisper into her ear, rocking softly back and forth as her fingers grasp to my shoulders. "I'm sorry. You don't need to hear about Mark and I. I know…that was stupid. We're fine." I sigh reluctantly, knowing that I want to talk to her about Mark, but also that I can't. Not now.

"I'm sorry. I'm not a good friend…"

"What?" I break from her grip and brush the stray pieces of hair out of her face. "Carrie, you are the best friend anyone could ask for. I completely understand. I'm the one who is a shitty friend." She takes a second to breathe before nodding playfully. I smirk at her smart ass reply, then beam even more when I finally see her smile. I stare into her beautiful eyes, and for a second, I'm reminded of Mark's bright blue ones. I miss him. How horrible of me to think of him now, but it's true. Maybe I've underestimated what I feel for him. Maybe it's more than just a high school relationship. Maybe this will become more. It's too soon to tell.

After about an hour of hugging, talking, apologizing, reassuring and enough tears to flood a village, Carrie finally leaves. I close the door with a sigh. I needed that. Now all I need is Mark.

I rush to the phone, leaning my stomach against the rough mattress once and again and dialing as fast as my fingers can. After two rings, I start to get anxious. Then I hear a click at last.

"Hello?" It's not Mark, but a woman. Shit. His mother.

"Hi, is Mark there?" I ask in my most polite voice, when I hear something in the background.

"Mom, gimme the phone! Hello?" Mark says in a strangled voice, and a small chuckle escapes my lips.

"Hey. Excited?"

"Well I like being on the phone with…umm…I like the phone." Mark stops, remembering his mother is somewhere around, throwing me into a fit of laughter.

"Hmm…interesting." I say, and he sighs on the other end.

"How was your nap?"

"Carrie came over." I blurt out suddenly, unable to transition into it smoothly.

"Oh." He says after a brief pause, and I moan quietly. "What happened?"

"It's all okay now." I explain vaguely, and let my head fall to press against the mattress.

"That's good." Mark says calmly, with only the smallest twinge of jealousy hidden in his voice.

"I miss you." I repeat from before, feeling once again very vulnerable. But his soft giggle on the other side reassures me.

"I miss you too." He whispers, and I squeeze the phone into my ear, trying to listen harder, as if I can get closer to him. "A lot." He adds, and for this second, I feel like all of this Carrie drama was extremely worth it.

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Notes: I have an extremely bad headache, and I'm sorry again for the long wait for an update, but I hope this satisfies. No kissing! That's a record for me man. Review please!


	14. The Way I Feel About You

A/N: Hello all! I'm glad that you guys liked Carrie coming back! Yay! I was very happy creating the peace offering so it's good you guys liked it too. Don't worry, Carrie will not stop the M/R-ness. Don't fret!

Disclaimer: All Jonathan Larson's.

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Mark's POV

I rub my palms roughly against my thighs, breathing heavily and sweating profusely. All of my nervous ticks have reoccurred, something I thought I could get under control by now. The car moves swiftly down the street, and my eyes connect with everything on the side of the road. A man walking his dog, a woman holding her infant and talking to her friend, two men talking outside a café, teenagers chatting comically. All of it grabs my attention as I try to calm myself down.

Roger entwines our fingers together, suppressing my shaking slightly, but it never completely goes away. I know he wants to lean over and kiss me, but with his mom driving it would be sort of awkward. Instead he just stares directly into my eyes, drawing me in, making me dizzy, prompting a blush. Roger could command me to do anything and I would probably agree to it. For some reason he hypnotizes me every second I am around him. Looking down at our fingers, I can barely tell which ones are mine. It makes me grin, just to think about the connection. I feel so close to Roger, and it's corny, but he makes me happier than I've ever been.

Carrie and Roger have been hanging out more often, constantly leaving me out, making me feel like I'm not wanted. But at the end of the day when Roger calls me, his voice soothing at the other end, I can't seem to tell him that I'm slightly jealous. I know he cares about me, and I know that he really doesn't mean to leave me out, but it would be a different thing if he invited me to hang out with him and Carrie. Carrie doesn't like me. I know it. And I think that's what hurts the most. The fact that Roger is friends with someone who can't accept our relationship. Or maybe it's because I suspect Carrie of still having feelings for Roger.

Maybe I'm being selfish. Do I want Roger all to myself? That couldn't be it. I know he has other friends, and so do I. Then why is this bothering me so much? Either way I know that Roger isn't going to leave me for her. That's a thought I can stick with.

I crawl out of my mind, and concentrate on the road once again. Going to see Roger's dad. Maybe I shouldn't concentrate on that. That's the thing that's making me nervous. Roger assured me that I would be fine, that his dad is an ass but Roger doesn't care what he thinks. I'm still really scared about my first impression. I was lucky with Roger's mom, but I usually don't make good first impressions. Roger's dad is someone I'm very afraid of. Just the things that Roger tells me are enough to scare me out of my mind. But seeing the man, being with his son, possibly having to hold Roger's hand in front of him, it's all too much to take.

"Mark, settle down. I told you, I don't care what he thinks. You're shaking like crazy." Roger finally says, after about twenty minutes of feeling me shake beneath his touch. He lays his hand on the back of my neck, stroking my hair calmly and allowing me to shut my eyes and relax.

"I know, it's just…what if he gets mad? I mean, will he be upset about…this?" I try to keep my explanation to a minimum, as I'm not entirely comfortable talking about it in front of Roger's mom. But he really doesn't seem to mind. I don't see why he doesn't just kiss me then.

"I'm sure he will be. But I don't care. Nothing is going to change how I feel about you." He finally leans in, pressing our lips together lightly, but my eyes immediately rocket to the front seat. I'm sure his mother is watching and listening to all of this, but after that line, I don't really care anymore. His confidence, even in front of his mother, definitely adds to my admiration of Roger.

"Thanks." I whisper, my breath sticking to his cheek, and he smiles back at me.

"Anytime." He turns back towards the front, placing our connected hands on his lap and sighing loudly.

"Roger, you know that you cannot do that in front of your father right?" Roger's mom chimes in, and suddenly I feel like an idiot. She was obviously upset watching her son express feelings for another boy.

"What?" Roger acts oblivious, and I feel his hand loosen from our firm grip.

"You boys…I admire what you have at this age. But I don't think your father will be too fond of it, and I know it will be hard on him. He didn't expect this out of you." She turns the wheel sharply, dodging a small critter but keeping her cool. A little too cool for this conversation.

"Expect what?" He sounds so bewildered, as if he didn't know his father might be against this. The confidence I just gained seconds ago is plummeting once again.

"You being with Mark. Mark, dear, you know that I wouldn't have chosen anyone else for my son. I am perfectly fine with you two. But I don't think that Roger's father will feel the same way. All I'm saying Roger is that you shouldn't be surprised if you father gets a little…angry…to say the least." Her eyes stay glued to the road the entire time, squinting at street signs to find her way to the restaurant. Roger's head drops, and I think he's finally realized what he's about to do.

"Rog, do you think this is stupid?" I question, as my own thoughts have gone spinning out of control. It's only been a few weeks. I appreciate the sentiment, and I know that I want this to become serious, but does he feel the same way? I always thought that I was overestimating my feelings.

"What?" His breath becomes heavier, as everyone gangs up on him at once. "No, Mark. I don't think it's stupid. I like you. I want you to be there when I see my dad. Why is everyone…" I hear his voice rise, and retract my question as quick as I can.

"Shhh…I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pressure you. I'm just nervous that this will explode in our faces. If you want me to be there then I'm there. I'm sorry. Sorry." I ramble on, rubbing his back as gently as possible, trying to gain back his trust. All he does is stare down at his knees, and I'm unable to tell what he's thinking, until he catches my gaze. I see it there, in his thoughts, in his eyes, in his expression. He really needs me here.

"Don't think that way. It will all be okay if you just trust me." He grips his fingers between mine, pulling me closer to him.

"I do trust you." I confess, and hear Roger's mother awkwardly clear her throat in front of us.

"Good. Mom stay out of our conversations." He says lightheartedly, using our entangled hands to press our bodies together, and allow me to lean my head against his chest. His mother giggles at him, and then winks to me through the rear view mirror. We ride the rest of the way in that position, my temple resting on his heart, moving with his breaths, feeling it pound and settle.

When we enter the restaurant, I can tell that Roger's father is rich. There are crystal chandeliers, elegant statues and paintings, perfectly crisp carpet and wood floor, and not to mention the stuck up looking people surrounding me. The higher class is mobbing me, and I suddenly feel like I should be wearing something a little more…dressy. I tried to look my best, in khakis and one of my nice sweaters, but I feel like a hobo around these people. I can only imagine what Roger's father will think of me. Great, I will have made an impression before I even open my mouth to speak.

The thing adding to my nerves is that I'm not allowed to make any contact with Roger. His mother told us that unless we want to get evil stares, we should probably keep the public displays of affection to a low. He wants to reach out and grasp my hand in his, to pull me into his body for an embrace, to press his lips to my temple, but he can't do anything. Instead he just stands stiffly next to me, awaiting the sight of his father somewhere at a silk draped table. I take the moment in which Roger's mom is not looking, and lean over to Roger's ear.

"Do I look okay?" I whisper, and he turns his head to run his eyes up and down my body. It gives me some kind of unique pleasure to watch him do this, especially after a small smirk comes onto his lips.

"Of course. Especially your _ass_." He says with a wanton look on his face, as his hand slowly creeps around my waist. I smack it away before his fingers connect with the fabric of my pants, and he winces in shock.

"Roger…don't." I say harshly, and he pouts for a second before his mother shows up next to him.

"They said that your father is at a table in the back. Apparently he was rather rude asking for a non-smoking seat, so they put him in a corner completely out of sight." She chuckles, enjoying the punishment her ex-husband…or is he? I should make a mental note to ask Roger when we get back home.

We walk for about two minutes, weaving around waiters and tables, and I try my best not to rub anyone the wrong way by acting impolitely. They really weren't kidding; they put him way in the back. By the time we finally make it to his table, I'm about ready to give up on this whole thing. The whole adventure through the restaurant has made me even more nervous than I was before. And now I don't have Roger's touch, or even words, to calm me down.

Roger's mom greets his father and his girlfriend, shaking her hand and visibly holding back a scowl. Roger looks over to me to roll his eyes, then notices the sad frown I am carrying on my face. He reaches for my hand, then stops himself, sighing with frustration and turning back towards the table.

"Roger you look taller than when I last saw you. How long's it been?" His father's voice is rough and low, with a coarse coat that Roger's smooth voice is fortunately missing. He's wearing a cheap suit, and I'm starting to doubt my earlier assumption. The middle-aged man appears as though he's trying to fit in with the rich folk, but can't seem to adjust completely. His hair is a sandy blond like Roger's, but his eyes shine with a much darker green. I can see where Roger got his facial shape from, and even the way he carries himself, but nothing else about this man reminds me of his son. And for that, I'm partially grateful.

"About six months." Roger grimaces, taking a seat next to his mother and leaving a spot open for me. I see him take in a deep breath before pointing to me and starting his introduction. "Dad…this is Mark." Roger smiles, as I too sit down, and wave my hand slightly in the direction of his father.

"Yes. Your mother told me he was coming. I still don't see why you needed to bring a friend to this dinner. I wanted you to meet my fiancé, not to completely ignore me for your friend all evening." I glance over to see Roger fuming, and I lay my hand on his thigh beneath the table. His head turns towards me, and he shakes it slowly without being noticeable. I know he's sorry for his father's behavior, but it makes me appreciate him even more when he feels the need to express an apology.

"It's nice to meet you Mr. Davis." I say politely, as if oblivious to the insult I just received. He nods at me, smiling falsely and then breathing heavily through his nose.

"This is my fiancé Danielle. She is an accountant." He says with a huge smile, dropping the fact that I'm here and concentrating on the slender woman next to him. Her hair is almost pitch black, tied up in a messy bun and haphazardly falling in her face at random moments. Her smile is perfectly symmetrical, but her teeth are tinted yellow, probably from smoking. I can smell her halfway across the table. That gives me the idea that Roger's father doesn't really care about other people too much, as he got a non-smoking table. Or maybe she's trying to quit. She looks a little worn down and tired. Her dress is a ruby red, clinging to her tightly and allowing her sharp bones to show through the fabric.

"It's nice to meet you Danielle. And John, Roger had something to tell you if you wouldn't have interrupted him like that." Roger's mother adds at the last second, smiling at Roger and I and awaiting the news to be broken. Roger opens his mouth in surprise, probably not expecting to have to tell his father about us so soon into the evening. His grip on my hand under the table becomes tighter, and I gasp silently as he's dangerously close to crushing my bones. "Or he will tell you when the time comes." She changes her statement, noticing the state of shock she put her son through, and I finally feel Roger relax.

The conversation carries on through dinner, after ordering the least expensive thing on the menu for myself and watching as everyone else talk about random issues. Roger stays almost silent the whole time, every once and a while he hesitates to lean his head on my shoulder before frowning and leaning back in his chair. Danielle seems a little nicer than Roger's father, and halfway through the meal I begin to think that she could do better. Not that Roger's father is cold or horrible in anyway, he's rather funny when the time is right, but she just seems to have more personality and grace than he ever will. Roger's mother stays polite and respectful, even when crude things are said or insults slowly slip by.

By the time dessert comes, I'm about ready to leave and never come back. I long to touch Roger, and sitting beside him for so long with only his hand and leg to work with is becoming unbearable.

"So, Mark, how old are you?" His father finally acknowledges me, after an entire night of ignoring my existence at the table. I sit up straight in my seat, clear my throat, and prepare my answer as if I'm competing for some award.

"I'm a freshman. So fifteen." I answer confidently, and Roger's father frowns.

"Oh. You're quite young. Roger aren't you eighteen?" He furrows his brow towards his son, and it amazes me that he doesn't even know his own offspring's age. Roger sighs quietly and shakes his head.

"No dad. I'm seventeen. I don't turn eighteen 'til next January." Roger states irritably, and his mother gives him a concerned look, telling him to be patient. "What does it matter anyway if Mark's younger than me?" He asks curiously, gripping my hand once again under the table. Shit. I hope this doesn't start something bad.

"Well it's just weird. I would have never been friends with a freshman while I was a junior. Freshmen were always teased back then. Being friends with one…" His sentence drops off into a mumble, and I can tell Roger is starting to get really angry.

"I'm not _friends_ with Mark, Dad." He stops himself to prepare, then looks over at me lovingly, placing his hand on my arm. "We are going out." My eyes lower to the tablecloth, and he boldly wraps his arm around my waist. In a way I want to tell him to stop, but this is his decision.

"Linda, did you know about this?" He immediately turns to Roger's mother, and she smiles with a nod.

"Yes John, and I completely approve." She says matter-of-factly, smirking at Roger and I and pressing her hand to my shoulder. "Look how happy Roger looks, John." She adds when she notices the shocked look on his face. I cringe in fear as I wait for a response, a scream, a calm acceptance, or a full-blown scolding.

"Well...Roger…I guess whatever makes you happy is…fine…with me." He separates his words with a swiftness, which almost makes me believe there is truth in his statement. But then I see the cold stare he's throwing at me, and all respect I had for this man has gone completely out the window. We finish our meal in a tense mood, the conversations becoming short and awkward, as Roger's hand rests around my waist and he scoots his chair closer to me.

Once we vacate the table, the whole party moves to the doors while Danielle and Roger's mom visit the bathroom. Roger's father leans against the wall, his feet extended out to hold himself up and a wrinkled frown covering his face. I wait for him to say something, to make conversation, but for a few minutes he just stands there glaring at both of us. Roger grasps my hand in his at last, in front of the entire restaurant, and even his father. A small smile plays on my lips, and even though I'm deathly afraid, it makes me proud of Roger that he's able to build up this courage.

"Roger…" His father scoffs, trying to tell Roger to let go of my hand. But the teen ignores him. I, however, am unable to make any action at all. Instead I stand frozen in my tracks, as I sense a fight brewing.

"Roger please stop that." He says again, this time his voice raising only a little, but not enough to be noticed by all of the people around him.

"Why should I?" Roger snaps back defensively.

"Because I don't want half of this restaurant, and New York for that matter to know that I've got a gay son."

"Are you ashamed of me?"

"Maybe I am." He answers back bluntly, and I take the opportunity to detach from Roger. I don't think holding hands is helping matters in the slightest. Roger doesn't seem to notice, but instead carries on with his father.

"I knew you had more to say when I told you. I can always tell when you are hiding something."

"Yea, well. I don't want you seeing that boy again Roger. Do you understand me?" His father is speaking like I'm not standing right there. Apparently I've become invisible.

"No Dad. You don't control my life. I can be with Mark if I want. You're not going to stop me." Roger screams before storming out the door and to the car. I hesitate to follow him, having to weave myself around Mr. Davis in order to get out the door.

When I reach the outdoors, the moon is shining bright in the sky, and I'm able to see Roger leaning against the car, his face buried in his hands. I make my way towards him, leaning my palm to his shoulder and placing my cheek against his.

"It's okay Rog. He's just upset at the news." I rub my hand gently up his arm, and press my lips to his forehead softly.

"I don't care what he thinks. I just…I know that he's not the only one who will be ashamed of me. Or who is ashamed of me." He tilts his head up to look me in the eyes, and I smile to let him know that it will be all right.

"I'm sorry, I'm the cause of this…I…"

"Mark, don't do that." He stops me before I begin rambling on about myself, and joins our mouths together cautiously. Our lips hug each other, teeth clicking lightly and tongues staying out of the picture. His hand moves to my neck, deepening the kiss, as I throw my arms around his neck. Hips grind subtly, and Roger moans into my mouth, shuddering as I slide my thigh between his legs. He breaks away, exhibiting a smile, and reminding me that we are in a parking lot, with his father probably watching us. He presses his forehead to mine, shutting his eyes and allowing me to catch my breath.

"I love you…" I sigh, my breath mingling with his until he sharply pulls away. Shit. I didn't even think about it before it came out. This is certainly not the time or place I wanted to say that. Roger stares at me for a few seconds in shock, then kisses me briefly again.

"I…I love you too." He smiles, wider than I've ever seen him smile before, then tangles our hands together between our chests.

"I'm tired." I say after a long silence, and he nods with a moan.

"Me too. We need to get to bed." He smirks, touching our lips together slowly. I sigh again, all of the fear and nerves from the evening washing off of me, to leave Roger and I.

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Notes: Aww…the fluff. Did y'all think Roger's father was…sufficient? Hah. I hope you liked the chapter! And don't get your hopes up, that last line is not leading to the big event. Sorry all. Review for me? Thank you XD


	15. Dim Witted Charm

A/N: This will be my last chapter for a while on a count of a family trip to Florida in a few days…so there will be some gaps in updating for about a week and a half. Sorry! But I will miss you guys a lot. Don't worry. Hope you like it! (Keep in mind that it's at the beginning of April. Just so you know a timeframe. Hehe.)

Disclaimer: Jonathan Larson.

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Roger's POV (Two weeks later)

Carrie and I sit on my bedroom floor, books and papers sprawled in front of us. The Civil War stares up at me, but all I can do is gape at what I have to memorize in one night. Actually, more like two hours. God knows I'm not going to study after Carrie leaves.

Carrie's been helping me study since we met, and I help her with her homework. She's always been better at remembering huge general topics while I concentrate on one. It's relaxing to see her acting like nothing happened, like we are good old buddies once again. To have her back in my life is tremendously beneficial. I never really appreciated how much she helps me. With school, with emotional problems, writing songs and just to make me laugh when I need it. The one thing that scares me is that Mark can always top her with those things. He's become my best friend. He's always there. He wouldn't leave me behind like Carrie did. Just because I wanted to be happy.

I used to be able to tell Carrie everything that was on my mind. Now I find myself holding back, screening my words before they exit my mouth. I can't talk about Mark, about Katie, about what I did over the weekend, last night, nothing. I feel so limited, like our friendship is only good at certain moments. Mentioning all of this would just bring more chaos, something I don't want to renew. I love Carrie like a sister, but I wouldn't feel comfortable telling my sister about my love life.

"You really should have studied earlier Rog. This is a lot of stuff to do in one night." She tells me blatantly, sitting back on her heels and wrapping her arms around her knees. Her innocent eyes stare at me from beneath her arms, and I shrug.

"Well I pay attention in class, so I don't think it will be that hard." I brush her comment off easily and she smiles sweetly.

"All right. But don't blame me when you fail. I tried, I guess that's all I can do for a stubborn lad like you." She sighs, lifting her elbow to rest on her knee and pressing her palm to the top of her head. A yawn stretches her mouth wide open, but she refuses to move a muscle to cover it. She's never really worried about being polite in front of me.

"'Lad?' Who uses that word?" I snap, grabbing my lemonade from my dresser and watching Carrie's face fall.

"I do. It's my word of the day." She explains with a frown on her face, and I slap her lightly on the shoulder after setting my drink back down. "What about you? Why the fuck do you drink lemonade when spring just started? Don't people usually drink that in the summer?" I take another huge gulp at her comment and spray some of the liquid through my front teeth at her. She yelps, wiping it away from her green and brown skirt, then giggles at me.

"So I can do that allll year long." A huge-ass grin comes over my face, and she squints at my smugness. I've always loved teasing Carrie. She takes it so easily, without whining or anger, as opposed to other girls I've been friends with. I've become accustomed to Carrie's nonchalant acceptance. I have a feeling other girls would just get pissed off.

"Well you're lucky this skirt is old. Otherwise this water would be dumped all over your head by now." She picks up her glass, raising an eyebrow, but all I can do is laugh.

"Oh come on, I have lemonade. That gets sticky. I have a fucking huge advantage over you." I swish some in my mouth, puckering my lips and threatening to spit again. She cringes against the front of my bed, and I swallow before breaking into laughter. "Chicken."

"Well if you get lemonade on me you might get it on your book too. So hah!" Her skinny finger is directed towards me and I glance down at my history book. She's right. There lies a small wet stain from the citrus drink, burning its way into the American Revolution.

"Oh well. No one likes George Washington anyway." I shut the book with a slam, leaning my head against the edge of my mattress.

"I don't know about that. I mean they wanted him to be King. Even after that's what they fricken' fought to get away from. He must have been at least slightly likeable." Carrie's eyes close slowly as she spurts out information I should probably have known.

"Do you have to contradict everything I say?" My head slings forward, and she smiles, keeping her eyes shut.

"Yep." She says quickly, and I poke her in the stomach, forcing her body to scrunch and a small groan to emit from her mouth. "Do you have to tickle me?" She rubs her stomach lightly, wincing in apparent pain.

"Yep. You know you love it." I poke her again, but this time grasp my hand in hers afterwards. She eyes me suspiciously and giggles.

"What's up with you lately? You're so…not like yourself. You don't seem as cynical." She chuckles are her characterization and I frown immediately. Does she really not know the reason for my change?

"I don't know…I guess, well…I dunno." My words stumble over each other and I can't help but hate myself for how obvious that was.

"Aww…babe what is it?" Come on, it cant' be that…" She stops with a small jolt, like it hit her with a shock. Had she forgotten about Mark? Maybe she figured that we were over by now. She thought it was just a phase? Or that I was just trying to break up with her? How the hell am I supposed to tell her that I love him? "Oh." She sighs, and part of me wants to pull her into an embrace, but I'm afraid that's too much.

"Car I didn't want to…" My explanation is cut short by the phone, and I simply stare at it in the corner of my bedroom. Then I remember my mother isn't home. She has some dinner with her law office, something I'm sure she is not so thrilled about attending. She's never really liked the people she works with. Countless nights I've had to hear stories about the idiotic things her co-workers did, or how she got mounts of work while everyone else slacked off. I feel for my mom, and in a way she is my role model.

I run to pick up the phone, praying it isn't Mark. I reluctantly pull it off the receiver, smiling nervously at Carrie and beginning to speak.

"Hello?" My voice is small, as I press my lips closely to the phone, trying to muffle my words.

"Where the _fuck_ have you been? You haven't called me in a fuckingweek! Roger Davis I am so coming down there to kick your ass." Katie yells loud and clear, and then follows up her scolding with a small chuckle. I glance over to see Carrie staring blankly at the wall, deep in thought, or completely zoned out.

"Sorry, Kate. I just…umm…I don't know. I've been spending a lot of time with Carrie and M…with Carrie. She's helping me with studying right now. Could I call you back?" My tone sounds like pleading, and inside I am begging Katie to just accept it without anger. I know she doesn't like the thought of me spending too much time with Carrie, but this is not the greatest time for her to complain.

"I guess. But you better fucking call me back! I am not waiting by the phone for you like some pathetic...teenage girl. Personally, I think you should be spending some more time with your boyfriend instead of your…gal pal…but you never listen to me anyway." She says harshly, and I begin to pick at a sticker glued to my dresser. I told Mark that this would never come off.

A week ago 

"Mark don't…" I press my stomach into his back, wrapping my arms carefully around his waist and kissing his neck lightly. He continues to work, his fingers fiddling with the stickiness of the paper, as he tries to make it even.

"Shh…I'm trying to make it straight. I don't want to fuck this up, now stop kissing me so I can concentrate." He turns his head to peck me softly on the forehead before continuing his mission.

"I don't see why you have to put that on there. It's just a stupid sticker." I fall back onto my bed, sitting up against my headboard. Mark turns towards me with a scowl on his face, as he retracts his hands from my dresser.

"Because. I want you to think of me when you look at it. And yes, I'm a sentimental loser. I know." A small smile graces his lips and he twists his body back around, bending forward to place the sticker in the perfect position. He rises up, exhaling in relief. "There. Perfect." He jumps into bed with me, nuzzling into my side and staring up at the ceiling.

"Where did you find that? It's so cheesy." I whisper into his ear, keeping my eyes close and hugging him tightly to my body. I never feel more secure than when Mark and I just lie in bed together.

"I found it in the parking lot of school. I thought you'd appreciate its dim-witted charm." He tips his head up to smile, and I kiss his forehead before inhaling deeply.

"Well you're the only person I'd accept something so stupid from. Consider yourself lucky." I hear him chuckle quietly before we both fall asleep, cheesy love lines filling our minds.

Present

"I will Katie. I promise." I ignore her comment about Mark, and hang the phone up before she can say anymore. I stare down at the sticker again, and then stifle a giggle when I read it for the hundredth time. A blue and white cow pops out of the picture, a small smirk on his face and his tail straight up behind him. A bubble sprouts from his mouth, almost in the shape of a heart, but more similar to a cloud. It reads: "I'll love you till the cows come home." The saying is so cheesy and girlish; I can't help but feel a little giddy. Mark was right. I do think of him when I see it.

"So…I have to go in like five minutes. I forgot to tell you that I have something going…on, so I can't stay." Carrie looks down at the floor while she speaks, and I walk over to where she is seated and lower myself to look her in the eyes.

"All right. You want me to drive you home?" I ask her, and she shakes her head quickly.

"No, I'd rather walk. It's nice out." Her eyes still advert from mine, and now it's just becoming frustrating.

"Is there something wrong?" I ask, lifting her chin up with my index finger and imitating her pout.

"I just feel like you don't tell me what's going on in your life. You're always hidden in the shadows." She jerks away from my touch, and I sit down in front of her.

"What do you mean?" I ask, even though I am completely aware of what she's talking about.

"Well…you have yet to tell me why you're so happy, and your phone calls with Katie are always muffled and hidden."

"I thought you didn't like Katie. That's why I try to keep our conversations to a limit when you're around. And…" She smiles innocently, and I furrow my brow. A smile?

"Katie is fine. I thought she didn't like me." She giggles, and I'm still confused about her state of mind. She laughs at the weirdest moments.

"I don't know. I assumed you two didn't like each other. But the reason I'm so happy is because…" She cuts me off again, and this time I become a little more irritated.

"Well at the party I snapped at her because I was drunk and upset. I told you that I get angry when I'm upset. And when I see things that are quite shocking…" She whispers her final sentence, and part of my heart completely sinks to my feet. Maybe it's a stupid idea to tell her how things are with Mark.

"Carrie, I didn't mean for you to find out that way." I bury my face in my hands and sigh, sneaking a peek at her expression. She rolls her eyes and looks away from me.

"I don't want to get into this again. Just tell me what you were about to say. Why are you so happy?" Her face becomes blank, and empty pallet for me to mess with.

"Because. I'm in love with Mark." I say bluntly, and watch and her mouth drops open in shock.

"You guys…what? You guys have only been…together for like…a month!" Her voice shrieks in a high-pitched tone, and I grasp her hand to try to calm her down.

"I know, but Carrie, this is for real. Just, don't try to belittle us please."

"I'm not. I'm just…are you sure? I don't want you to get hurt." She presses both of her hands to cup my cheeks, and I smile with a nod.

"Yea. I'm sure. I'm sorry if this…" She leans forward to kiss me lightly on the nose, then giggles at my expression of shock.

"Don't say anything. I have to go. Let's leave it at this." She gets up off the floor, motioning for me to stay put and walks casually out the door. It takes me a few seconds to realize what just happened, but when I do, I reach for the phone immediately.

I dial quickly, feeling the smile play at my lips, and then lie sprawled across the floor.

"Hello?"

"I'll love you 'til the cows come home." I say quietly into the phone, and hear a long pause on the other end. A small stutter comes, then real words.

"Shut the fuck up." Mark snaps and our laughs mesh smoothly. I bring my hands up behind my head and stare at the ceiling, feeling butterflies in the pit of my stomach. No matter how stupid that line is, it sure as hell does work.

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Notes: Sorry to repeat the whole phone conversation again, but I wanted to fit that Roger/Carrie scene in while still getting in Mark. I hope you liked it, and Florida here I come! Hehe!


	16. Immediate Explanation

A/N: Computer not working, don't really have the energy or will to explain what the hell happened to it. But if anyone is a wiz with computers, I'd really appreciate some help. Thanks. And thanks for the reviews guys. You make my life.

Disclaimer: Jonathan Larson's.

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Mark's POV

Roger's eyes open and close gently as he tries to stay awake. His head rests against my chest as we sit on the couch in my basement staring blankly at the television. Reruns of Happy Days and Leave it to Beaver have gotten old fast, and even I find it tempting to fall asleep with Roger here on the couch. Instead, I keep myself awake by tracing figure eights on his hip.

This is the first time I've ever had Roger over to my house, and its odd how casual and calm it all is. Even though my mother made it quite awkward at first, forcing Roger through a series of questions and embarrassing comments, once we disappeared to the basement we were finally in safe territory. And now we are risking anyone finding us in this compromising position. Of course I could simply say that roger fell asleep that way, a part of me just wants to tell the truth. Roger told his parents, so why can't I? The way I feel about Roger makes me want to tell everyone in the world.

A yawn catches my mouth, my chest expanding uncomfortably beneath the other boy. He fidgets a bit before completely sitting up, prompting a loud groan to spur from my mouth.

" What are you doing?" I ask, shifting a little and running my tired hand down Roger's arm.

"Nothin', just getting more comfortable." He smirks wearily before lying back down, this time grasping my hand and pressing his mouth to my fingers. I let a small moan escape, and earn a sexy smile from Roger in return. These are the kinds of things that wipe away all worry of someone catching us together.

"Are you comfortable now?" I press a kiss to the top of his head, breathing in his smell and feeling his sandy blond hair tickling my nose.

"Definitely." He answers quietly, setting down our tangled hands on top of his stomach. At the risk of falling asleep again, I decide to start a conversation.

"You know, I haven't seen Katie in a while." I bury my face in his hair again, finding that I'm partial to the smell of his hair products combined with a faint musk of cigarette smoke. I hate that Roger smokes, but I've come to be familiar with the taste and smell of tobacco. He insists that he doesn't do it that often, but it's the one thing I feel I would change about him if I could.

"Yea well…ever since I set her up with Johnny she has vanished from all other society." He reaches for my arms, wrapping them around himself softly and letting go of my hand.

"Johnny?"

"This guy I write songs with sometimes. We've been talking about getting a band together someday since he's a bass player and I play guitar and sing. I've known him for years." A spark jolts through my stomach, and suddenly my eyes are wide open.

"Oh. Cool." I mumble, moving my leg to hang off the edge of the couch, threatening to get up completely.

"Mark, are you jealous?" Roger turns so we are facing each other, pressing our stomachs together. I can feel myself shake lightly at the prospect that I actually _am_ jealous.

"What? No." My eyes gaze towards the television again, seeing Roger smiling out of the corner of my eye.

"Mark. I set him up with Katie. They're dating. She insists they're madly in love even though it's been three weeks. I don't think you have anything to worry about." He leans his chin against my chest, sighing as I keep my eyes glued to the television. I don't really care about Katie and Johnny's relationship. "Plus, I'm in love with someone must smarter and funnier…" His lips connect with mine, finally bringing my attention back to his eyes. "…and sexier." His last comment forces me to scoff. Me? Sexy? I think he's confusing me with himself. Another kiss.

"Well this Johnny has gotta be one ugly guy." Another kiss.

"Nah, he's fucking hot." He reaches to touch my lips again when I turn, allowing him to only make contact with my cheek. The pain in my stomach is quickly returning. "Mark. I'm kidding. You know you are the only guy I'd ever want." I tip towards him for a deeper kiss, opening my mouth against his and letting our breath mingle. My fingers dig deeply into his scalp, pushing his mouth closer and closer to mine. With this opportunity, Roger's tongue sneaks past my lips, finding mine immediately. They wrap around each other slowly, joining then separating, hugging then splitting. To my surprise, I don't taste cigarettes, but instead, just Roger.

I feel his breathing become heavier as his fingers tickle my ribs, moving lower to hold my hip tightly. My hands struggle to grip anything of Roger's, my skin crawling, my breath straining, feeling that the boy on top of me does not have enough places to explore. My tongue could search his mouth for days on end. But before my trip through the depth of Roger's mouth is over, I feel a sharp claw dig into my shin.

"Ow! Shit!" I wince loudly, covering my mouth seconds later and hoping desperately that my mother didn't hear me. Roger looks up at me, disappointed and worried. Instead of offering an immediate explanation, I move my head around Roger's to get a good view of the thing crawling across my leg. As expected, I see my cat making it's way up Roger's thigh to say hello.

"What the fuck?" Roger whips his head around, unwittingly bumping noses with the bony, golden cat. "A cat! You have a cat?" He asks, petting the feline's head gently and scratching at its neck.

"Yea. We got her a few months ago. My sister wanted a dog but my dad is allergic. My mom brought Lucy home one day and my sister refused to own a cat. She said something about them being boring or some shit. So she's kind of become mine." Lucy licks Roger's face a few times, and I watch as he nuzzles into her neck. He's so sweet with her, so cautious and loving, I wonder if he could look anymore adorable than he does at this moment.

"I like her. Lucy's a good name. Did you name her?" I consider lying, just to accept a compliment.

"No, Cindy did. That's what she wanted to name the dog. It took her awhile to forgive me when I stick it on the cat. She might still be a little bitter." Roger laughs loudly, his hands running slowly up and down Lucy, admiring her silky soft, golden brown hair. Apparently she's had enough however, as she springs to the floor seconds later. I guess the cat doesn't appreciate backrubs from Roger just as much as I do.

"Anyways…" Roger sighs, pecking my lips then resting his chin back on my chest. "Should I call Katie? Ask her if she wants to do something?" His eyes close, and I decide to show that I'm not jealous in the slightest. Then again, I might just be bringing chaos on myself. That's a risk I'll just have to take. I wrap my arms around his body, laying my hands on the small of his back.

"Yea. Tell her to bring Johnny too. It'll be a double date sort of deal." He seems a bit shocked, raising his eyebrows and shaking his head lightly.

"Okay. If you want." I nod and he leans forward, exhibiting a frown the entire way. He takes my bottom lip in his mouth, biting lightly and letting me feel the stubble on his top lip. We break with a small smack, and I'm tempted to wipe my shining saliva away from the edges of his mouth. "I should probably get going. My mom wants me home earlier tonight." He lifts a finger to my chin, rubbing his thumb over it softly.

"Why? It's Friday night. I was hoping maybe you could sleep here tonight since I'm always staying at your house. I feel like your mom is getting annoyed with me." I run my hand through his hair, kneading through the gelled knots and dried hairspray.

"What? She's not annoyed with you. She loves having company. It's just I was out till four last Friday at a club. I came home a little drunk and she was mad. You're lucky she likes you, otherwise I wouldn't have been able to come over." He gets up off of me, carefully maneuvering his legs so he doesn't knee me in the crotch. I stay lying down, a little peeved at the fact that Roger was partying. Most likely with girls. Not that I mind he was partying without me, I'm not much for the dancing scene, especially when I would probably be forced to sit alone in a booth in the corner as Roger rubbed against some half naked whore all night long. Then I'd get the excuse that it meant nothing, that's just the way everyone dances nowadays. I'd rather not witness it altogether.

"All right. But…who did you go out with Friday?" I try to make myself seem calm, pulling my arm behind my head and resting my other palm to my stomach. Roger searches for his jacket on the messy basement floor, throwing junk all over to see if it's hidden beneath Cindy's make-up or a laundry basket. All of this shit is proof that the basement is the one territory in the house my mother hasn't obsessively cleaned since we've moved in.

Cindy and I have been known to make obscene messes down here, most of which my mother completely ignores when it comes time to vacuum and duct every inch of the house. The basement is our teenager's haven. Cindy has parties down here, giggly sleepovers and unfortunately to my knowledge, some rather loud sexual encounters on evenings my parents are away and I'm upstairs doing homework at the kitchen table. I never thought I'd have the chance to get her back for all those uncomfortable noises, but now I may be the one using the basement when my parents are away.

Roger finally finds his coat, slipping it over his shoulders. He smiles warmly, trying to ignore my question. Now I'm getting really worried.

"Was it Carrie?" I've already assumed it was her, considering she is the only person Roger would avoid mentioning.

"Hm?"

"Carrie. Was she the one you were out with?" He stands above me, gazing down with his big green eyes. I know he's trying to wipe away any anger that might surface in me. That along with jealousy and confusion. A little voice in my head always asks why Roger is still friends with someone who doesn't like me. But she had him before me, a thought that forces that little voice out of my head.

"Oh…yeah. We just kinda sat at a table and talked. And her friend Vicki brought alcohol, so I drank and…anyway. I won't get drunk again. The massive hangover was definitely not worth it." A smile graces his fatigued face. "That and not being able to stay over at my boyfriend's house on a Friday night." He finally leans down to meet my lips quickly, but I pull on his collar and deepen the kiss. He lets out a surprised moan, before returning the kiss.

His hand cups my right cheek, his thumb stroking as his teeth cling to my lip. Just as he sinks into my mouth, I separate from him, pushing lightly between his pecks with the tips of my fingers. It's hard not to groan when we break, but instead a smug grin covers my mouth.

"I'll see you then." I whisper, my hot breath touching his flushed cheek. He sighs with a chuckle, and I see how much he wants to continue the kiss. Wherever it would have led. I'm actually surprised that I was strong enough to push him away. I guess these months of being refused anything more than a make-out session has allowed me to repress all of my weaknesses.

"Yea…see you." He straightens out, heading towards the stairs, when suddenly he catches himself, pressing his palm to the doorframe. "Would tomorrow be all right to do something with Katie and Johnny?" His voice is deep and throaty, causing a slight twinge of pleasure to coarse through my stomach. _Damn_. There goes all of the power I just gained.

"Uhh…yep. Yea, I'm sure that will work. Pick me up?" I roll off of the couch, moving closer to Roger who has abandoned his quest for the stairs.

"Sure. I'll call you about the details. And if they can't come, then we could just hang out. I can't get enough of that." He throws his arms around my waist once he reaches my body, sighing as if we've been parted forever. It makes me feel safe, that I know I don't love him more than he loves me. I don't feel awkward around him, uncomfortable, or forced. I can be myself. That's rare.

"Mmkay." I whisper into his mouth, as he presses it against mine.

"I blame alcohol for me having to leave you." He smirks, holding my gaze while rubbing our noses lightly together.

"I blame peer pressure."

"Now you just sound like an after-school special." He chuckles softly, gripping tighter so I can't squirm away.

"Thanks."

"Till tomorrow, Marky." He leans forward again for a kiss, but instead smiles arrogantly and trots up the steps. Damn him. Why do I want him so much?

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Notes: Good? Bad? Too much fluff? Not enough? I doubt the latter is the one you'll choose. Next stop, Johnny and Katie and Mark and Roger! Woot! Review please? Love love!


	17. Acting Like a Boyfriend

A/N: Hey all! Thanks for all of the reviews and everything, and I hope that you like this chapter.

Disclaimer: Jonathan Larson's.

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Roger's POV

"So you said eight right?" Mark glances impatiently down at his watch, fiddling his fingers against his thigh. I reach for his hand, tangling it with mine to calm his nerves. I don't even know why he's so nervous, he doesn't know Johnny and he's hung out with Katie plenty of times. To tell the truth, I should be more nervous than him.

"Yep. I told Katie the movie was at eight fifteen. So she's probably gonna cut it close. She never gets ready a second before she has to." Mark smirks to himself, dropping his head and sighing loudly. "Hey, you all right?" I lift his chin so I can see his eyes, the pale blue sucking me in quickly.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just…never mind." He looks out the window, just in time to see Johnny's car pull up. Immediately I panic, dropping his hand and leaving him confused. I just don't have the heart to tell him I don't want Johnny to know we are together. I haven't told any of my friends except Katie and Carrie. Not that I have many friends who care about my love life, but Johnny is always asking me if I've scored a chick yet.

"Hey guys." I can feel Mark's eyes on me as I reach forward to pat Johnny on the back and lean down to peck Katie on the forehead. I hate pretending. But I'd hate to hear about what Johnny thinks. He's not going to be accepting, and he's my only chance for a band. I can't lose him. I love Mark, but I have to hold out just a little longer, even though it's killing me.

"Sorry we're late. I couldn't drag her ass out of the bathroom." Johnny brushes his lips softly over Katie's, allowing her to pull away with a scowl seconds later. Their affection makes me realize how hard this night is going to be. I want to reach over and kiss Mark, touch him, hold his hand, even put my hand on his back, but I can't. And all because of my stupid rock star dream.

"Nah, it's fine. We weren't waiting long anyways." I smile, nodding and leading them to the theatre. Mark trails behind all three of us, realizing that I'm not going to take his hand and walk with him like Katie and Johnny are doing. I can feel the guilt and shame pressing against the walls of my head. This was a horrible idea. How could I not tell Mark that Johnny doesn't know?

"You guys wanna get some ice cream after or something?" Katie taps me on the shoulder, and I look back at Mark for an answer. All he does is shrug, his eyes glazed over in potential tears that we both know he won't release. He never does.

"Sure." I answer quietly, and then continue into the dark theatre. The previews have started already, and the four of us fumble around in the pitch black hole, tripping over purses and sneakers to find seats. Katie finally saves four, summoning the rest of us over to her. I sit in between her and Mark, giving myself a chance to explain. I lean over to the other boy once we get situated, pressing my lips to his cheek delicately and then moving towards his ear. I can feel him tense the moment I touch him.

"I'm sorry…" I whisper, and he nods loosely. I scoot a little closer, resting my chin on his shoulder for a minute before realizing Johnny might be able to see me. "Look…I just don't want to tell Johnny because he might…"

"I know. Just…I don't care." His eyes remain on the screen, his voice harsh and indifferent. I reach subtly under the arms of our chairs, grabbing his hand with mine and resting them against my knee. "Roger...don't." He snaps, retracting his hand and shoving it in the pocket of his pants.

"What? Why…"

"If you don't want to act like my boyfriend, then don't hold my hand." He murmurs out of the side of his mouth, and I rest back in my chair. I don't think I've ever felt more rejected in my life. But then again, this is exactly what I am doing to him.

"I want to act like your boyfriend I just don't want to tell Johnny yet. He's not the kind of guy who would understand things like…" Mark's lips collide roughly with mine, his tongue thrusting through and I have no choice but to accept it. His hands land on the back of my neck as he opens his mouth against mine quickly. Unwittingly I sink into him, his mouth, his touch, his _kiss_. I had no idea that this pale, Jewish boy would be able to send me into a daze with a fucking kiss. The way he grips to me, sending chills up my spine in ways I never thought possible. But I haven't completely forgotten about who is surrounding us. Secretly I wish that Johnny still hasn't seen us, despite the rather audible gasp I made when I was pulled into this tug of tongues.

Mark's fingers tickle my shoulders, pulling me towards him, persuading me to jump into his lap. God knows _that_ isn't going to happen. I can't help but return every little touch, every movement, every faint bite and lick. And before I know it, we are making out in a movie theatre. I hate how goddamn cliché this is. But yet I keep kissing him. I keep holding his cheek against my palm. I keep wondering when someone is going to stop us.

But no one ever does.

Instead, Mark pulls away, his lips slowly separating from mine with a light smack. Even though it's dark, I can see deep into his eyes. I see something that wasn't there with Carrie. Something I've never seen before with anyone I've ever been with. And immediately I'm regretting I've avoided him in front of Johnny. But somehow I have a feeling this isn't going to change things.

"I love you." I whisper in his ear, tangling our fingers together against the armrest and watching as a small smile spreads across his lips. But a frown remains on my face because Mark doesn't know that I'm still not going to let Johnny know we are together. I just can't.

We return to watching the movie in peace, shifting slightly every once and a while to get comfortable. At one point Mark leans his head over to land on my shoulder, and I reluctantly accept it. Inside I'm kicking myself, regretting every single second I am mentally pushing Mark away. I don't know what my fucking problem is. I _want_ him, I _love _him, then why can't I _be_ with him in front of my "cool" friend? I'm just immediately assuming that Johnny wouldn't be okay with us as a couple.

As we're walking out of the theatre, I avoid standing next to Mark in fear that he will reach for my hand. I look around uncomfortably as Katie and Johnny have make out sessions. I simply pat Mark on the back when he says something funny instead of slinging my arm around his waist and kissing his gently on the cheek. And I resist the urge to tell him I love him every second of our time together. But I hate it the whole time.

I feel like this is happening again. It's just going around in circles. I felt I couldn't tell Carrie, and Mark was hurt in a result of it. And now, I'm hurting him again. I can't stand this shit.

We pull up to a light brown building in Johnny's car, and I reluctantly observe Katie and Johnny's not-so-secret kisses before we're ready to go in.

"Hey guys, I just gotta talk to Mark for a second, we'll be right there." Mark and I sit in the back of the beaten up car, a slight whiff of cinnamon stinging our nostrils when a breeze comes through. Katie nods at me and Johnny mumbles something before they both leave to get their ice cream. I watch as they meet in a cuddle, Johnny's arm wrapping around Katie's body as he presses a small kiss to her forehead. I can tell that both of them are happier with each other than they've ever been. And it kills me that I can't show them how happy I am.

"What's up?" Mark says, his voice low and caked with anger that he is trying to mask. He knows what I want to talk about, he just doesn't want to have this conversation.

"Mark, I'm sorry that I've been ignoring you. You have to believe that it kills me not to be able to touch you and kiss you…" I take his hand, bringing it to my lips carefully, staring him in the eye the entire time.

"It's fine. I know you don't want him to think…_less_ of you." He pulls away from me kindheartedly, with understanding and compassion that shouldn't exist. He shouldn't have to fake things just so I won't be…ashamed? Am I ashamed of Mark?

No matter how much I tell myself I'm not…in the back of my mind I always will be. There will always be that part of me telling me that I can't have a boyfriend if I'm going to make it big. But if that's what it takes to make it big, then maybe that's not what I want.

"Mark, I love you. Just…do this for me once." My fingers grip into his neck, massaging the matted hair in the back. He sighs uneasily, and shows me a smile that breaks my heart in half.

"Roger...this isn't the first time we've had to do all of this hiding bullshit. How long do I have to wait before you're comfortable enough to be who we are in public? I'm sick of pretending to be someone I'm not." His eyes focus on a piece of fabric he's picking off of the seat and I watch his anxious movements. I'm sick of being the cause of these things. I've never had to pretend for him, never had to hide. Sure his parents don't know about us yet, but I've never had to lie to them before. Why is he being so patient with me? So understanding?

I guess Mark is just that easy to love.

"I'm sorry. I…I don't know. I can't say that we don't have to pretend anymore because…if I want to be a rock star…" He nods swiftly and harshly, and I keep my hand on his neck, assuring him that I still care about him.

"I get it. Let's just…go inside, okay?" Before I can answer he gets out of the car, looking back only briefly before heading towards the door. I just remain seated, contemplating what the hell to do next. I don't know what I want. Maybe I'm thinking about this too early. Maybe I should just go inside, and be myself. Kiss Mark, touch Mark, hug Mark, be with Mark. Be his boyfriend. But it would change everything.

I just don't know if I want to risk it all just yet. I don't know what I'm thinking, my mind is so full of cloudiness. I would be crazy to let Mark go over something as stupid as fame. And who cares if some punk ass guys don't like our band someday because the lead singer is with another guy? That's not my problem.

Then why am I making it into such a big deal? Mark is right, I never want to do anything brash in school. Sure in restaurants or clubs I will grab him for a deep kiss in front of the rest of the sweaty dancers or drunken teens at the bar, but school has a different atmosphere. Everyone can see it's me, they know who I am. I'm not just some random horny boy at a club who needs his boyfriend right there. I'm the new school fag.

Suddenly I'm finding myself caring about what other people think.

So I just sit in the car. Staring out at Katie, Johnny and Mark chatting at a table inside. Every few seconds Mark glances out at me, pushing me further from joining them. I just can't make it one more minute lying like this.

But eventually I come inside. And I hold Mark's hand under the table. It pains me that that's the best he's going to get for now. Until I can learn to grow the fuck up.

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Notes: Like it? Sorry it's kinda short and it took a while, but yeah. Thanks to reviewers again! Next chapter soon…dunno. Depends on the reviews. XD


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